Jolan'tru: A Romulan in the Delta Quadrant
by NaginiFay
Summary: Trumari is a Romulan. A Romulan who grew up on Vulcan. That didn't work out so well. Trumari used to be a spy. That didn't work out so well. Then she was a Maquis. That didn't work out so well. Now she's a secretary, on a Starfleet ship, stuck out in the Delta Quadrant. That is probably not going to work out so well, either. And Vorik? Vorik is a twerp.
1. A Romulan Spy?

Jolan'tru: A Romulan in the Delta Quadrant

A/N: This fic is inspired by a number of things. The much neglected and maligned minor character Vorik and his failed love life. The scene where we see that there appears to be a Vulcan woman on Chakotay's Maquis crew. The fact that this woman is apparently not a telepath, since she didn't have to hide from the Devore inspectors like Vorik did. The mysterious Ensign Trumari, whom we see in dialogue, but never onscreen. The name is vaguely Vulcan in form, especially written as T'Rumari, and then, that puts one in mind of the hedonistic pagan festival of Rumarie, from ancient Vulcan, a festival presumably worshiping gods the average Vulcan isn't interested in. To me, this just leads to one conclusion: There's a _Romulan_ on Voyager. That's right, a Romulan. And the fun starts from there. How did she get there? What is she like? Would she and Vorik get along?

Now, some exposition.

* * *

One by one, Captain Kathryn Janeway and her chief security officer had discussed the new members of the crew, the former Maquis. Their personal and criminal histories ( _bad)_ , psychological profiles ( _even worse_ ), the roles they'd filled on Commander Chakotay's ship, their professional qualifications ( _what on Earth will I do with these people?_ ), to what extent Tuvok believed they could be trusted ( _nope. nope. nope. nope,nope,nope_ ), what rank they'd be assigned, and in what department they would serve. It wasn't a particularly pretty picture. The Starfleet deserters and Academy dropouts were generally the best officer material, despite various crimes. There was Chakotay himself, who'd at least resigned his commission before running off after the Cardassians, and Torres, the engineer who was as hotheaded and insubordinate as she was brilliant. There were also a dysfunctional Betazoid, Bajorans who hadn't gotten the memo that the Resistance was over, including a teenager, a handful of people who'd been kicked out of Starfleet for crimes of severity from chronic insubordination to manslaughter. And of course the rebel civilians. _Lovely._

Apparently, Tuvok had chosen to save the worst for last, someone they hadn't known was serving on Chakotay's crew, but nonetheless had files on, due to her being on the Federation's most wanted list. "Suspected political assassinations, espionage, treason, torture, smuggling, resisting arrest, escape from custody, murdering her family, it just goes on….Tuvok, she's a _Romulan spy._ When I offered the Maquis a place aboard, I never imagined something like this! Why didn't you _warn_ me?"

"The urgency of this information was minimal."

"Minimal!?" Kathryn exclaimed. "She's a serious threat! The safest thing to do with her would be to beam her into space!"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Kathryn. "She is somewhat unstable, but her personal habits aside, I do not believe it will be necessary to beam her into space, or expel her from the crew."

"Personal habits? Like stabbing people in the back?"

Tuvok ignored the sarcasm and answered what he clearly considered the legitimate question. "She is thoroughly hedonistic. She indulges in the use of narcotics, is quite gluttonous, and is licentious as well."

"Lovely. Are you suggesting she won't murder us all if we allow her to carry on carousing? What use would she even be?" Seriously though, that didn't exactly sound like Starfleet material, even if Trumari had once held the rank of Lieutenant Commander. How had she managed that anyway?

Tuvok looked thoughtful. "Captain, are you familiar with the work of the intelligence agent Rumar?"

"Only in passing. Why? Do you know him? Do you think he'd vouch for her, if we had any way of contacting him?"

"Captain, Ar'cht N'ts Trumari _is_ Rumar."

"The way I heard it, Rumar was one of the best, for all their career was only about a decade long! I can't believe all this time someone who was supposedly a hero was actually a double agent. It just doesn't make sense."

"It does not." Tuvok agreed. He was looking particularly enigmatic. _So annoying when he does that._

Kathryn shot Tuvok a look. "What are you saying? Do you think she's innocent?"

"I think we lack critical information about her motivations. It is even possible that some or even most of this file is a deception."

"You think she might be undercover?" Now that was a thought.

"It is possible. She did tell me when I discovered her identity, both as a wanted person and as Rumar, that she was neither a traitor, nor on a mission for the Federation. I had no opportunity to obtain the particulars of her situation."

"Anything else at all?"

Tuvok hesitated. "My berth aboard the Val Jean was adjacent hers."

"That can't have been pleasant, with your hearing." Kathryn said sympathetically. Tuvok was far from a voyeur, he had to have been very uncomfortable.

"Indeed, it was not, but not for the reason you might suppose. She "caroused" elsewhere. No, those nights she spent in her own bed, she either spent weeping, or waking up screaming."

Kathryn contemplated this for a moment. "I suppose the question is then, guilt, or grief?"

"Guilt will not serve our purposes so well as grief, but either could suffice."

"I guess we're just going to have to ask."

"Yes. Shall I have her brought in?"

"Yes. We might as well do it today. If we have to get rid of her, the sooner the better."


	2. Mistaken Identity

Vorik was on his way down to Engineering from his quarters when the Maquis began passing by in pairs, each pair accompanied by a Security officer. From their direction, it was clear they were being escorted to quarters, rather than the brig...where they belonged. He barely had time register that one of them was a rather attractive female of his own species before she launched herself at him and pulled him into an entirely inappropriate embrace. His thoughts became rather incoherent at that point. He stood helplessly immobile while she chattered at him enthusiastically.

 _''Illogical...-a stranger is touching me... She must be V'tosh katur... and strangely happy to see me... Taurik's friend perhaps? Stop laughing and help me!''_ This last was for the security officer. Vorik had not yet had the chance to learn his name. Half the names he had learned now belonged to the dead, which inspired him to mild irritation at the wasted effort. Certainly not grief. She gave him a last squeeze and pulled away.

''You keep them from blowing me out an airlock and we'll be even. See you later!'' she said cheerfully, allowing herself to be locked into the room with another woman _. "Even for_ what? _"_ he wondered. Assuming this woman knew Taurik, just what might she have done for him? The thought was disturbing.

The security officer grinned at him. ''It's nice that you have an old friend on board, even if she is Maquis. How do you know her?''

''I don't.''

''So you've never seen her before?'' The security officer looked at him oddly.

''I don't believe so. She may have mistaken me for my brother.''

''You two look much alike?''

''Very much so. We are genetically identical. However, I do question how she might know him. Our social circles overlap quite tightly and she is not at all the type of person we would wish to know.'' That was something of an understatement. His parents strongly disapproved of the acceptance the V'tosh Katur were gaining in Vulcan society.

''Not even before she joined the Maquis?''

"Doubtful."

The officer shrugged. "Your loss. She's a pretty good specimen of the Vulcan ideal. Isn't she?" Vorik had to concede the point. She was, other than being too tall.

"You know, the Captain plans to rehabilitate them and make them crew members. We're going to be out here a long time. Maybe you should call dibs."

"Call dibs?"

"Assert a claim on being the first. In this case, first chance at dating her." What an absurd concept. One did not 'call dibs' on exclusive rights to court a female, one simply did it, and eliminated the competition in the most effective fashion. With a _lirpa_ , if ultimately necessary.

"I am not yet prepared to accept that I will not be able to return to my fiancé in time." Vorik told him.

"Yeah, I get it. Hopefully my girl will wait for me a bit too."

Vorik nodded, and continued to Engineering, where he was dismayed to find one of the Maquis had already been assigned a duty shift. He calculated just how much of his shift he could spent avoiding him without negatively impacting efficiency. The answer wasn't encouraging.

A/N: Lirpa are those fanbladed polearm swords that Spock tried to kill Kirk with. And yes, my Vorik really is that much of a twerp.


	3. Convincing the Captain

Trumari wasn't particularly surprised when Tuvok came for her. What she was surprised about was being taken to see the Captain, in her ready room. She'd expected an escort to the brig.

"Sit." The human woman told her, "I'm a bit of a loss as to what to call you. Your former rank hardly seems appropriate, and we certainly aren't on a first name basis. I can't confirm your identity as Agent Rumar for certain, and I certainly can't pronounce that tongue twister of a Romulan house name."

"It's actually Vulcan, sir. Trumari will be fine."

"Captain will do then. How does a Romulan come by a Vulcan name? Do you have more recent Vulcan ancestry? I see you don't have the ridges."

"The ridges are a genetic trait, found in both the Romulan and Vulcan gene pools. They are simply more common among the Rihannsu. My birth clan is one of those mostly without the gene. As for the name, I obtained it when I married."

"You married a Vulcan."

"I did. He was V'tosh katur." Janeway looked to Tuvok.

"Without logic. Vulcans who embrace the expression of emotion, in varying degrees." Tuvok explained.

"I see. Well, that explains that. I suppose you have some idea why you're here."

"Yes, Captain. You wish to evaluate the threat I pose to you and your crew. As I anticipated having this conversation in the brig, you must be considering the possibility of allowing me to remain aboard."

"I'm really not sure what I'm considering. Your arrest warrant is pretty damning."

"Oh, is it an arrest warrant now? The last thing I saw was a bounty offered for my corpse. I suppose that's an upgrade."

"The Federation doesn't offer bounties for corpses, Trumari."

Trumari looked at the captain steadily. Oh, to be so naïve. "It seems you would be surprised what the Federation does. I suppose you think they don't frame and abandon people they find inconvenient, either? Or possibly orchestrate the assassinations of their families? I have to admit, I don't know whether the Empire or the Federation is responsible for that one, or if it was just bad luck. They're dead, any which way."

"It sounds to me like you have a rather interesting tale to tell, Trumari."

"Interesting, yes, I suppose it is. I have to warn you, the ending's a bit disappointing."

"Go ahead. Keep in mind, both Tuvok and I are well aware that you happen to be a professional liar."

"Oh, wasn't I though? I was so good at it. Now the best I can manage is biting my tongue until it swells up, whenever I've got a secret. Sundered Cardassians." Trumari swore and then sighed.

"Well, I was born in the Empire. My family served the Empress personally, as her poison guard. We prepared most of the imperial family's meals and tested everything for poison, from food to the gifts people sent her, even the air.

Anyway, when I was a child, the Praetor sent someone into the kitchens to poison a snack meant to be served with the Empress's evening tea. He walked right in, and traded out some biscuits that had already been tested, without anyone else seeing him. I couldn't convince anyone on duty at the time of what had happened, and knowing someone in my family would die if the Empress was poisoned, even non-fatally, I did what I thought was necessary.

I can only remember coming up with a plan to eat them in front of the Empress, but not carrying it out. I am told it happened much as I designed. I left the kitchens with the biscuits and went to where I knew the Empress would be entertaining the Praetor. There I found the man who had brought the biscuits, standing in the servants position, attending the Praetor, clearly visible to everyone present. I pretended he had given them to me as a gift, thanked him extravagantly and began eating them, very fast. The Empress thought I was quite cute, and had a tendency to indulge me a bit, so she thought my absurd behavior was amusing. Right up to the point, of course, where I dropped to the floor and started twitching.

Fortunately for me, the poison was a rare one that was less deadly for children than adults. If the Empress had eaten even one, as the Praetor planned, she'd have died. Slowly. Well, I'd managed to both implicate and embarrass the Praetor with my little stunt, which was rather dangerous for my family. The Empress felt that honor demanded she protect us. She could hardly keep us safe from the Praetor in his own Empire, so she sent those of us in the most immediate danger the only place he might not be able to reach us."

"The Federation. Clever." The captain remarked.

"Yes. We were given strict instructions to offer our services and loyalty to the Federation whole-heartedly, until we should be recalled, perhaps generations later. It was her wish that we fill a diplomatic role once the Praetors had been deposed and a true peace had been achieved."

"You certainly appeared to have done."

"Oh, yes. We immigrated to Vulcan as refugees, and those of us who were able even began training in logic, mental disciplines and so on. Anyway, it's not terribly relevant. I assimilated as best I could into Vulcan culture, but I found that even though I could maintain a cultural appropriate demeanor most of the time, it wasn't really me. I began associating with the V'tosh katur to fill my social needs. I met and promised myself to Nerit then. His betrothed had already made it plain she would not have him." Tuvok nodded his understanding of the implications, but didn't elaborate for the Captain.

A/N: Well, generally speaking, I'm not one to beg for reviews, but I am a bit disappointed in the level of response to my story. Is my ramp up to the main story really that boring? I've done my best to trim it while still giving the necessary exposition, but I'm beginning to doubt myself.


	4. Oops

A/N: Trumari continues her suspect tale of woe and finds out why 'Taurik' was so nonplussed in chapter 2. Captain Janeway's perspective.

Kathryn found the Romulan woman unnecessarily long winded, but the story was at least interesting, like Trumari had said.

"Around this time, I also gained an interest in humans. I decided to apply to Starfleet Academy, making my political situation, and possible conflict of loyalties thoroughly clear when I did so. The admission's board and I worked out an agreement that was acceptable to both of us, and I enrolled in the Academy." Trumari paused for breath, her mouth apparently dry.

"I'd still get citizenship, as usual, and I'd agree to not get involved if there was ever a conflict with my loyalties. I hadn't even finished my freshman year at the Academy when Intelligence started trying to recruit me. I gave in eventually. They had me out in the Zone three times before I even graduated. My first official post was as a yeoman in the Diplomatic Corp, but I was actually vetting dissidents in the 'Zone for clandestine meetings with Ambassador Spock."

"I caught a lot of flak when he 'went rogue' and disappeared into the underground on Romulus. It wouldn't have been so bad if I could have _found_ him right away, but no such luck. He wasn't hanging out with the right crowd often enough for that. Possibly on purpose. Anyway, I did manage to convince Intelligence it wasn't my fault, once Picard found him, and kept going. Pulling all the strings that had to be pulled to get Taurik and the other Federation prisoners out of Romulan space was my last big operation that wasn't a bit of a disaster."

Kathryn stopped her. "Who is Taurik?"

Trumari looked confused. "He's one of your engineers. A Vulcan, family name Bret'st. I was really surprised to see him. I didn't think he'd have been ready for a mission like this already, after what the Remans and the Tal Shiar put him through."

Kathryn picked up a PADD and scrolled through a few pages. "I don't have a Taurik on my crew manifest. My only Vulcan engineer is a _Bret-test_ Vorik."

"Oh!" Trumari exclaimed. "That's awkward. No wonder he looked at me like I was crazy when I said hello. Taurik mentioned having a brother named Vorik, but he didn't say anything about being identical twins! I'll have to apologize…" Trumari flushed.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Uh…hugging him." Trumari admitted. "Oh, Lord Rumar, why do you play so rough with me?" Trumari groaned.

"Perhaps because you are his namesake?" Tuvok suggested. "Assuming the existence of such a personage."

"Rumar is some kind of god, I take it?" Kathryn asked.

"A trickster god, to be specific." Tuvok answered, "He is your patron?"

"Conceived and born on Rumarie." Trumari confirmed. "My twin was born the day before, so she escaped his attention."

"This is interesting, but it really isn't relevant." Kathryn chided her.

"Right, of course. Well, I got a summons to come back to the Empire and take up my hereditary post for the new Empress, because everybody who'd stayed in the Empire was dead. I informed my superiors and then took a leave of absence, like I was supposed to, to consider my options. My mate and I went to visit my sister and my parents, who'd moved to a colony near the Cardassian border. The Cardassians picked just then to decide that planet was in the territory the Federation had ceded after all and killed my family. Intelligence booted me like a Klingon kicking tribbles as soon as the Cardassians tried to ransom me. I was stripped of my citizenship, convicted of treason _in absentia_ , and left to rot."

"The Cardassians were a bit upset about that, since the reward for a corpse was so much less that political concessions for a valued officer of Starfleet, and took it out on me. That's when the Maquis raided the prison and rescued me. I decided to throw in with them both out of gratitude, and for my own safety. Honor also demands justice for my family's deaths, so fighting Cardassians fit that quite nicely. As for whether some faction in the Federation or the Empire arranged it, I continued using those contacts who would still speak to me to try and find out. That's how Tuvok learned I was 'Rumar'."

Tuvok nodded his agreement. "Of course, it's also how I found out you were still in the good graces of Starfleet Intelligence. I was still trying to work out whether to tell Chakotay, or blackmail you when this whole 'stranded in the Delta Quadrant' thing happened."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at the woman. "And what might have you hoped to obtain?"

She sighed. "Well, you know, revenge on the Cardassians aside, I'm pretty upset by the treason conviction. What I really want is a one-way ticket to Romulan space. I'm really over the Federation and it's _'superior values'_ at the moment. I'd just like to go back to that kitchen and pretend the last twenty-five years never happened." "That might have been hard to do, with the habits you've acquired during your time with the Maquis." "I'd really rather be rid of those, honestly. Not that I'm capable of being anything but honest right now. The last year, actually. Sundered Cardassians."

Kathryn frowned at the woman in front of her. "Is it this bad all the time?"

"No, not all the time. It gets worse when I'm nervous, or in more pain than usual. I don't think they did it on purpose, since they didn't take advantage of it much."

Kathryn considered everything. She wasn't quite sure she believed this Trumari woman. "The other Maquis have agreed to cooperate in exchange for transportation back to the Alpha Quadrant. I've promised to put in a good word for them with the authorities when we get there, if they earn it. I'm not sure I can do that for you. Even if I became comfortable with the idea, I doubt it would do you any good."

Trumari tilted her head. "Could you promise to let me off in the Beta Quadrant near the Empire if we go around that way? And advocate that I be deported from the Federation to the Empire if we don't?"

"Quite possibly. Before I make any promises however, I'd like you to head to Sickbay. There's some tests I want that EMH to run."

"Can I consult with it about some other things, too?"

Kathryn waved a hand. "Ask for whatever it is to be triaged. There's a wait list."

"I understand."

A/N: So what does Janeway want checked on? Any theories? Also, in case you were wondering, I did make up the family name for Vorik, since I couldn't find one anywhere. Taurik is a Vulcan from TNG played by the same actor as plays Vorik in Voyager. It's generally accepted by those who care that the two are twins.


	5. Doctor's Appointment

A/N: New day, new chapter. That's the plan until I run out of backlog and the full weight of the hardest class of my college term hits me like a piano falling from a crane. I would like to remind everybody who's still reading, and give a heads-up to newcomers, that this story is listed as drama/humor. That is to say, yes, I _am_ writing a very gradual love story for VorikXTrumari, but the mushy stuff isn't happening for a good long while. We're definitely still in the drama and humor here. This story does actually follow the official Voyager timeline, so this really isn't an A/U, at least not at this point.

* * *

Trumari found herself walking herself to sickbay. No doubt she was being tracked, but the lack of armed escort was nice. She'd been disarmed, even her honor blade taken _(note to self, get that back asap)_ , but she was still technically dangerous. B'Elanna and some Asian human male were occupying two of the biobeds, looking a little sickly.

"Trumari?" the balding man in the room asked her.

"That's me." She confirmed.

"Have a seat. I'm not finished compiling the reference files I need."

"No worries. Nothing better to do."

The real flesh and blood human addressed her. B'Elanna, like usual, was ignoring her. Which was fine, because Trumari didn't like her either. "Ensign Harry Kim."

"Nice to meet you. Ar'cht N'ts Trumari. It was Lieutenant Commander, but I'm pretty sure I'm getting busted back to Crewman, provided the Captain even lets me stay."

"Why wouldn't she?" the human frowned.

"Very many reasons. I don't think you actually want to know."

"Okay." Harry said agreeably. Ah, good, she didn't have to spill her guts again just yet.

"So can I ask you a weird question?" She sighed. Or not.

"If you must."

"How does a Vulcan end up in the Maquis? I mean, it's really not logical. I know there's a few or Tuvok would have been made immediately…"

B'Elanna snorted and rolled her eyes. "It's actually perfectly logical, _Starfleet._ "

"Oh yeah, _Maquis_ , how's that?" Ensign Kim shot back good naturedly.

"Well, I can't really speak for the actual Vulcan Maquis, but in Trumari's case it makes perfect sense."

"Again, how?"

"Vulcans might not find revenge logical, but I think we both know that there's an awful lot of pointy-eared, cold blooded, greenish people who _do_."

The kid blinked for a while and then his mouth fell open. "You're _Romulan!?"_ he squeaked.

Trumari shrugged. "Guilty. Of that at least. Not the other things. Mostly."

Kim kept staring at her.

"Relax, Starfleet. She doesn't bite, at least not in public."

Trumari raised an eyebrow. "This coming from the Klingon in the room."

"No blood feuds in Sickbay." The hologram admonished, coming back in.

"Who's feuding?" B'Elanna muttered.

"We just can't stand each other," Trumari agreed. "Species is not a factor."

"Then keep it down. I've got a brain scan to run that won't calibrate properly past a certain ambient decibel level. How long ago did your head injury occur?" the hologram asked her, after a few passes of a medical tricorder.

"About a year ago. A little less."

"Be more precise please. I can tell that much from the preliminary scan."

Trumari shrugged. "Sorry, I really can't. Sometime between late 2370 and the beginning of the year. What are you looking for anyway?"

"I'll explain when I've finished my tests and the analysis." Trumari sat in Sickbay as patiently as she could. The hologram took the opportunity to run all sorts of tests related to her general health while he waited for the ones the Captain had ordered.

"I want you in here again soon." He told her. "I've given you a fairly high triage level. There's a lot to do before you can begin serving in any sort of capacity aboard a Starfleet vessel."

"I managed on the Val Jean," Trumari said dryly.

"Not for much longer you wouldn't have." The hologram retorted. "Your implants need calibration and parts replacement. You have such a severe micronutrient deficiency I'm going to have to invent a supplement regimen. You do know you need copper in your diet, right? I need to get you on proper prescribed pain management, and off those contraband narcotics. You need tissue regeneration therapy in a dozen places, _including your brain,_ and you're probably one menstrual cycle from permanent sterility. Not to mention the appalling number of infections you've managed to pick up!"

Trumari flinched. "My brain?"

"You've suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. Surely you noticed the loss of impulse control and reduction in cognitive ability?"

Trumari steepled her fingers. "Sure, I _noticed_ , but I just figured I was just a bit crazy. You know, torture and everything."

"No. Your condition is treatable. I'm not sure how treatable just yet. Vulcanoid neurology is not my expertise, and I'm extrapolating from information on Vulcans for nearly everything. That doesn't mean of course, that you aren't probably mentally and emotionally traumatized as well. I'm no ship's counselor, so you'll have to look elsewhere for that."

Trumari nodded. "I think I know where." Tuvok seemed the type.

"Good. Now go rest. I've a comprehensive report to make to the Captain."

* * *

Trumari wasn't sure what the EMH put in his report, but she did know that she soon found herself back in uniform, pulling light duty in the new airponics bay until the EMH certified her fit for normal duty. Apparently she was going to be a Yeoman again. Tuvok assured her that if she proved reliable, she'd be given command responsibilities, possibly an increase in rank. Having his support meant a lot to her, even if he'd refused to return her honor blade for the time being.

It wasn't so much, he said, that he didn't trust her with it, that he didn't trust other people to trust her with it, and that would likely result into her being provoked into using it. He was probably right. There were a number of people she wouldn't have minded terribly too much sticking it into, just a little bit. Like Kes. And B'Elanna. That annoying security officer who kept asking her out. And Tom Paris, for sure. Stupid human males. If the ones she did date would just stop touching her ears, maybe she wouldn't have such a horrible reputation right now. She'd complained of the matter to Tuvok, and he'd drily suggested she simply stop dating until her impulse control was back to normal. Obvious really. Except….there was one person she really _wanted_ to date…


	6. Rejection

A/N: Oops. Missed a day. I think. Job interviews and colds will do that to a person.

The next time Vorik interacted with the strange woman was nearly two weeks later, in Engineering during Gamma shift. He wasn't at all pleased to see her heading his way with a PADD, no doubt orders or some such from the bridge requiring secure transfer and confirmation signature. Her appearance remained as pleasant as ever, but the sight of her was far from that, due to what he now knew about her.

First, that the aptly named Trumari appeared to have decided to seduce every man on the ship, and was well on her way to succeeding.

Second, that she had once held the rank of lieutenant commander, but unlike the other Maquis, she was wanted for crimes so serious the captain had made her a crewman.

Third, and worst of all, Trumari was not Vulcan, not V'tosh katur. She was Romulan.

He'd barely had time for a reunion with his twin after his release from a Romulan POW camp, before Taurik had had to be admitted for mental health care. Unless they found a way to get home or at least communicate across the vast distance he would never know if Taurik had recovered. Surely what his brother had endured was sufficient cause for his negative emotions regarding his Sundered kin. Thus, he returned Trumari's greeting coldly.

* * *

"Ensign Vorik, commander Chakotay sent this down for you. Some kind of efficiency test, I believe." Trumari modulated her voice and expressions formally, not wanting to make the Vulcan more uncomfortable than he already clearly was.

The young man she'd embarrassingly mistaken for his brother nodded curtly and held out his hand. She passed the PADD over. "I believe I owe you an apology. My conduct at our last meeting was incorrect. Even believing you to be Taurik, I should have acted with more restraint."

Vorik signed the orders and handed them back to her. "Tell the bridge duty officer that I anticipate completion of the requested test by 0600 at the latest. It should not interfere with alpha shift's scheduled maintenance."

"Yes, sir."

She tried again. "My acquaintance with Taurik was brief, but rewarding. I would like to extend that acquaintance to include you, as well."

"I would not."

"May I discuss the reason for your reluctance with you at a more appropriate time?"

"Not reluctance. Refusal. And no, you may not. Return to your post immediately or I will report it."

Trumari stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Yes, sir."

Trumari added Vorik to the list of people she wanted to stick with her recently returned knife. The list Tuvok definitely didn't need to know about. Obviously, the resemblance between Taurik and his younger twin was entirely superficial. Jerk.

* * *

As soon as Trumari was gone, Vorik allowed himself to relax. He'd managed to escape the encounter without being subjected to any sexual advances. Or being murdered. One of the other former Maquis assigned to his section looked at him disapprovingly.

"That was rude, _sir_." Jarvin said bluntly.

"My conduct was in no way out of order."

"Permission to speak freely?"

"You have already been doing so. It seems unlikely forbidding it will discourage you."

"Alright then. Trumari's just trying to do her job and make friends, same as the rest of us. If you can't at least be polite about turning people down, _sir_ , I doubt you'll make any friends among either the former Maquis or the proper Starfleet people, and seventy-five years is a long time to sit alone for meals, even for a Vulcan." Jarvin said pointedly. Vorik dismissed the absurd notions that he was unfriendly, and needed friends among the Maquis.

A/N: I'm not sure how quickly Voyager got a new Chief Engineer, but for the purposes of this story, this chapter happens before that. Also, yes, Vorik is full of the snark.


	7. Assumptions

A few days later, Vorik found himself in Sickbay, repairing delicate medical equipment. The hologram appeared relieved to see him. "I was beginning to think there wasn't anybody aboard with the expertise to repair any of my equipment and that I'd have to do it myself. I'm a doctor, not a technician!"

"Fortunately, Doctor, I am." Vorik said politely, holding his hand out for the Doctor's list. The hologram tossed him a PADD.

"Start at the top and move down. I've got a procedure in half an hour that can't wait any longer, and I just discovered half the tools I need are malfunctioning."

"I will do my best, Doctor. This is the order of priority, or is it the order of use?" he asked, getting to work. The Doctor bustled around, adjusting this and that.

"Good question. Some of both. The two top items I can't possibly do a thing for my patient without."

"It is unlikely I will have time for anything beyond the first three." He informed the Doctor, popping open a panel on the large scale tissue debrider. The Doctor huffed, clearly programmed for irritation.

"I don't suppose you have any suggestions for what I might possibly substitute for a size four cauterization wand or an endometrial regenerator?"

"Yes Doctor. A size 3 three wand should be adequate, although it may lengthen the procedure significantly. I believe a standard epithelium regenerator can be reprogrammed and calibrated to the appropriate specifications. Shall I move that to the third priority repair?" The hologram blinked at him. "Yes. You really are a technician."

"Yes Doctor." He said patiently.

"We don't have a size three wand." The hologram said petulantly.

"Size two?" Vorik suggested.

The hologram grimaced. "The sizes are on an exponential scale you know." Vorik nodded his acknowledgement, finishing the micro-weld that had snapped on the debrider, presumably during Voyager's encounter with the Caretaker. He activated the device to run a diagnostic.

"Shoo, I can do that. Get to work on my vaporizing scalpel." The hologram paused. "Please. If it's still broken, I'll tell you."

"Understood." That _was_ more efficient.

* * *

If Vorik had been asked why he was hurrying so intently, he would have said that he simply wished to optimize the Doctor's preparations for the upcoming procedure in the time allotted. If he had spared a moment to evaluate his emotional state however, he might have had to admit, at least to himself, that he had no desire to find out which woman on Voyager was about to kill a baby, good reason or no, and wanted to get well out of Sickbay before she arrived. It didn't occur to him that there were a number of other reasons why a woman might need a procedure involving those instruments.

So, when Trumari walked into Sickbay at 0900 before he managed to get away, it only further cemented his low opinion of her.

* * *

"Is this level of preparation sufficient, Doctor?" Vorik asked the hologram.

"Yes, it'll do. Come back at noon. You can get started on finishing up my list."

"Doctor, your full list will likely be the work of several duty shifts."

"I know." The hologram said blissfully. "I'll let whoever ends up in charge of Engineering know I've co-opted you for the time being." Vorik raised an eyebrow at the hologram's presumption, but nodded and excused himself, carefully avoiding eye contact with Trumari.

* * *

Trumari was quite embarrassed to find Vorik in Sickbay as she eased herself painfully up onto a biobed. Did he have any idea why she was here? As much as she still wanted to get to know the twerp, dumping this particular bit of her personal history on him was a little much. He didn't need to know she'd had a miscarriage a year ago without proper medical care afterward, and she doubted he wanted to know, considering how he practically ran out of the room. She pressed a hand against her painful abdomen.

"Ready?" The hologram asked her.

"I suppose."

"Good. Let's get this done. The sooner you're fully functional the better. Not that I'm really advising you to start a family any time soon."

Trumari chuckled weakly. "You don't need to worry about that."

* * *

A/N: Vorik and his assumptions. *sigh*. Can you find the TOS reference in this chapter?


	8. Foundations of Friendship

Vorik gradually adjusted to both the idea and the reality of working with members of the Maquis. This adjustment was largely facilitated by the rapport he was surprised to discover between himself and the half-Klingon woman, B'Elanna. He overheard her grumbling to herself about being excluded from conversations between human engineers, and found himself sympathizing.

"Excuse me." He interjected politely.

"Are you here to tell me off for complaining, sir?" she snapped at him.

"Not at all." Vorik assured her.

"I could not help but overhear, as you surmised."

"Yes, the ears, I know. What about it?"

"In my admittedly limited experience with humans, exclusion such as you complained of is not typically intentional. They simply vacillate between assuming a lack of commonality, and failing to recognize when differences do in fact exist."

The half-Klingon had relaxed somewhat. "Yeah. I think I know what you mean. Are you saying if I want to make friends I have to try harder? Because, honestly, I haven't noticed you having any."

Vorik lifted and dropped a shoulder. "The result of my own oversight, I believe. I have been reluctant to engage anyone socially."

"Anyone, or just Maquis?" B'Elanna asked shrewdly.

"I admit some difficulty accepting lawbreakers as crewmates, however," he had to change position to keep the woman from storming off, "I have not really socialized with anyone at all for the last few years."

"That's weird," B'Elanna said, "even for a Vulcan, isn't it?"

"It is atypical." He admitted.

"Wait, aren't you fresh out of the Academy? You mean to tell me you went clear through without any friends? Even I had friends there!"

"You attended the Academy?"

"Sure, I did. Didn't graduate, but yeah, I did." She leaned back against a console. "I think most of us did. We just couldn't hack it there, or left Starfleet after, one way or another."

"I did not wish to be at the Academy, so I focused on my studies in order to graduate as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, I heard Vulcan parents can be overbearing." Vorik nodded. "So where was it you wanted to be?"

"Studying medical engineering."

"Small stuff rather than warp drives, then?"

"Yes."

She grinned. "So you'd rather fix our tricorders than use them to calibrate the warp field."

He blinked at her. "If given a choice."

"I'll keep that in mind next time my equipment's broken." She winked at him and went off to argue with Joe Carey about the right way to calibrate the aforementioned warp drive.

* * *

Vorik was pleased he'd made the disclosure when B'Elanna was appointed the new Chief Engineer. Everyone else, including Joe Carey, who'd been passed over for the promotion, thought B'Elanna was giving him 'scut work.' Considering that it had made the human male friendlier, he wasn't about to disabuse him of the notion. Initially Joe had privately ranted to him about the unfairness of being passed over, but B'Elanna's skills as an engineer had won him over.

"Still," he grumbled, "I've got seniority over her, I should at least be an assistant chief. Even you're more qualified to be a shift supervisor then she technically is to be Chief."

"Lieutenant Torres's skill in command is still untested." Vorik stated. "If you desire more responsibility, I suggest you make yourself indispensable to her. I am sure she will make the appointment herself."

"What about you, though? You're far and above the next most qualified."

"I have no interest in command. Skill in engineering cannot be the sole determinator. I am totally inexperienced managing and commanding others, and I doubt I performed well when I was forced to do so."

Joe grinned at him. "Yeah, some of the Maquis complained about you being a bossy little twerp. How old are you anyway?"

"My age is irrelevant." Vorik said. "My inexperience is not."

* * *

A/N: I've recently about tripled my hours at spent at work, and both my writing and schoolwork have suffered. As a result, I've decided to write a summary chapter covering the next few years of the development of the relationship between Vorik and Trumari, and then get on to the next major plot point, which is the buildup to the episode 'Blood Fever'. As I've said, this story is NOT an AU, so it will be consistent with that. I'll write the full interim episode companions I'd planned when I have the time and inspiration and publish them later as a one-shot collection, if anybody wants to read the specifics of Vorik being an unfriendly twerp for three years. ;)


	9. Death by Casserole

Vorik and Trumari had little enough to do with each other in the following years, with a few notable exceptions.

There was the time they beamed a Romulan scientist aboard through a time-shifted wormhole, and Vorik became suspicious that they were plotting together to take the ship, when they were really reminiscing about a shared favorite café in the Old Capitol.

Or the time Trumari and Vorik were forced to be civil in order to get a share of the confiscated mushroom soup the other Maquis had conspired to make.

And the time Trumari pinned him against a wall during Seska's takeover, faking a kiss so she could hide the fact that she was currently swallowing her honor blade.

Or that time the ship was being scanned by a sentient anomaly that warped the ship and they got trapped together in a shower stall.

And the sniping, the petty insults, shouted obscenities, invitations to reconciliatory kahl-toh matches, frosty rejections, and offerings of Vulcan cuisine in the Engineering break room which were smuggled away and consumed later with guilty pleasure.

* * *

Once Trumari had proven that she had least no immediate plans to betray them all (to even Vorik's satisfaction, she supposed, since he stopped glaring suspiciously every time she entered Engineering, or the mess, or anywhere really) she was promoted to Ensign. Her abilities were put to somewhat better use, which was gratifying, even if she was still intensely bored. She took to writing serialized spy novels and posting them for the crew to read, anonymously.

So it was it was that she found herself in the mess at 0300, alone, Neelix having gone to bed as soon as he'd served her hours ago, trying to finish both her dinner of leola root casserole and a slightly overdue chapter. She was close to giving in and simply having to apologize to her readers. The casserole tasted even more horrible than usual, and it seemed there was a good chance that if she tried to force another bite of it down her aching throat, she'd probably vomit. When her head began to ache as well, Trumari began to wonder if she was sick as well as tired. She sighed and sent off a note of apology to her readers. It wasn't until she began to inhale again that she realized something was seriously wrong.

* * *

Vorik switched off his personal PADD, disappointed. He was on a mandated day off, and he'd hoped for his accustomed weekly diversion. Now it would not be available for at least another day. He noted, with some distaste, that in his distraction, his replicated tea had gone tepid. He could discard it, and replicate more, but that would be an inefficient use of his replicator rations.

He set out instead, for Neelix's kitchen, where he would replenish his tea. The Talaxian typically left hot water on an induction burner overnight, with a wide array of tea ingredients in a cupboard. Unlike most of the rest of the food in the kitchen, these were not subject to rationing. He would select ingredients complimentary to his current brew, borrow a larger mug, and add more hot water. The result would be slightly cooler than the ideal temperature, but satisfactory.

Vorik's carefully reasoned plan was disrupted the moment he activated the lights.

* * *

 _I am going to die._ Trumari thought. _After everything I've survived, my end will be death by casserole. Rumar must be laughing._ She'd tried calling for help, but her rapidily swelling throat hadn't permitted her to speak on her first attempt. She tapped her badge repeatedly, hoping someone would notice the multiple comm attempts and call her back. No one did.

She struggled to her feet and tried to make it to the door, hoping to flag down a passerby, but she didn't make it. Once she'd collapsed onto the floor, she found herself completely unable to move. She lay there, gasping for air, contemplating the irony of dying in such a fashion.

The last member of the Poison Guard clan, once notorious for assassinating people by poison, fallen to little more than glorified chefs, dying an accidental death by poisoning, after consuming another chef's work.

After several minutes of her lying motionless, the lights switched off. _Poor Neelix._ She thought. _He'll probably find me in here in the morning, all cold, stiff and brown in the face. And of course, the Doctor won't have the tact not to tell him his food killed me._ Her morbid thoughts were interrupted by the swish of the door, and the activation of the lights, followed by a clunk and splash and hurried footsteps. _Hurray! Rescue! Oh, Sunder it. Not Vorik!_

* * *

"Ensign Trumari, are you alright?" Vorik asked. He did not expect an answer in the affirmative, the wheeze of her breathing and the unhealthy whitish-bronze color of her face were sufficient evidence to the contrary. No, he was merely attempting to determine her level of consciousness and whether she could speak.

 ** _What an idiot. Do I look alright?_**

Trumari fixed her gaze on him balefully. _Conscious, yes. Capable of speech, no._ _Or she would be cursing at me_. Vorik tapped his combadge.

"Vorik to Sickbay." There was no response.

"Vorik to Sickbay. Activate EMH."

The irritable hologram took a moment to realize he'd been activated remotely. "Hello? Hello? Why isn't anybody here? Is this some kind of glitch?"

"No Doctor, I activated you over the comm system."

"Well, what is it Vorik?"

"Doctor, I am in the mess hall. Trumari appears to be in respiratory distress."

"Is she still conscious?"

"Yes, but given that her blood oxygenation appears poor, I do not think she will be much longer." This was true, Trumari was quickly turning paler as her hemocyanin de-oxygenated and went clear.

"Get out the mess hall emergency med kit, administer tri-ox, and get her down here then."

"Understood." Vorik located and began to open the kit. "Would not an emergency medical transport be more appropriate?"

"Not on duty in Engineering tonight are you? The transporters are down for maintenance. You'll have to carry her. Do you need me to send anyone to help?"

"No, Doctor." Vorik administered the triox just as Trumari's eyes began to lose focus. It was likely she was still semi conscious. "It will take approximately five minutes to reach sickbay," he told her, assuming she could hear him and would appreciate knowing she would soon receive the care she needed.

 ** _Oh, Rumar! Is this really your idea of a rescue? I might just die of the embarrassment, just to spite you. Five minutes of being carried by Vorik is five too many!_**

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** Well, there's the summary I promised. It didn't turn out to be a whole chapter on it's own, but I'm eager to get on with things, and I'm sure you are too!


	10. Honor demands it

A/N: Pretend cookies go to cassielfsw who correctly diagnosed Trumari with a leola root allergy!

* * *

Vorik carefully picked up the slightly taller woman. Over all, she was quite light for her inconvenient length, but her arms seemed oddly heavy for their expected density, and it seemed she could do little to assist him. She was essentially a 'dead weight'. He had to settle for awkwardly allowing her face to loll against his neck. He jostled her slightly. He didn't want her smothering. It seemed every other step her head flopped back.

* * *

Trumari was really uncomfortable. Vorik might have been the most attractive man on the ship, but even if he hadn't been a jerk, she was really too busy trying not to die to enjoy this experience. Except how he smelled. He smelled amazing. Like, impending pon farr amazing. After all, the vulcanoid female's superior sense of smell existed for the primary purpose of pheromone detection.

Although Romulans had changed rather drastically in regards to the experience of plak tow (namely, who usually got it and whether it was fatal), females had retained the ancient ability to sense the condition of their mates, probably due to the reduction of telepathic ability. Vorik wasn't her mate by any means, but he was 'loudly' broadcasting his fitness and availability. She was glad she didn't spend much time in Engineering, because it was bound to get worse, and be extremely…distracting. _I wonder if he knows?_

* * *

Vorik deposited Trumari on a biobed with considerable relief. The woman had been shamelessly sniffing his neck. It was incredibly inappropriate! Possibly she wasn't quite in control of herself, so Vorik chose to refrain to refrain from accusing her of sexual harassment. For now.

The Doctor quickly determined that the cause of Trumari's respiratory distress was anaphylaxis and administered the appropriate medication. "Any idea what caused it, Ensign Vorik?"

"I did note that she had spilled most of a plateful of Neelix's leola root casserole halfway across the mess hall."

"Fetch me a sample, would you? From her plate. I'll want the casserole itself too, before it poisons anyone else."

Vorik found himself charged with rousing Neelix to inform him that the casserole was being confiscated, and the kitchen closed.

"I never poisoned anyone in my life!" the Talaxian protested.

"I am sure it was entirely unintentional, sir." Vorik reassured him politely. He collected the samples the EMH had requested and quarantined the kitchen to the grumbling of his crewmates. B'Elanna was one of them.

"My apologies sir." He told her, since she looked upset about missing breakfast.

"Don't worry about it, Vorik. What happened in here, anyway?"

"Ensign Trumari collapsed last night, due to some kind of poisoning. She will be fine, but the Doctor is still investigating and is concerned the food might be unsafe."

B'Elanna laughed. "Wow, I would have thought she would be the one _doing_ the poisoning around here. I guess you've holding out on us, eh Vorik?"

"Sir?" he asked confused. Was she really implying _he'd_ poisoned Trumari?

"Oh, come on. Everybody knows you can't stand her, and she won't leave you alone."

"Sir, that is most illogical. I am indifferent towards Trumari, and therefore have no motive. Moreover, I am the one who took her to sickbay. Had I intended to murder her, would I not have left her to die?"

B'Elanna laughed again. "It was a joke, Vorik. I'm _teasing_ you."

"I see." _The kind of teasing that indicates affection?_ He wondered. He certainly hoped so.

"Come on, since there's not going to be any breakfast here, we might as well replicate it in the engineering break room."

"Agreed. I will meet you there."

"Great, it's a date." Vorik froze as B'Elanna walked away. _It's a what?!_ Vorik hurried finished his work in the mess hall, and rushed up to sickbay to drop off the samples and casserole. He set them down as quickly as he could justify and attempted to leave.

"Slow down Vorik! Ensign Trumari wanted a word before you go on duty. Probably wants to thank you for saving her life, I would imagine."

Reluctantly, Vorik approached the woman on the biobed. She was apparently not able to rise, or to speak loudly, because she gestured that he should bend down to listen. "An expression of gratitude is unnecessary. I did only my duty." He informed her.

* * *

Trumari glared at Vorik and shook her head, beckoning him down again. He finally complied.

"Warning for you." She wheezed.

"I hardly think threats are an appropriate response to recent events." He complained.

 _Ha, he wanted thanked after all._ She grabbed his collar. "Not a threat, fool."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Let go of me."

"Listen!" she hissed.

"Why should I?" he asked sullenly.

"Stupid! Do you not know? I smell it. How can you not know?"

"Know what?" Was he really that oblivious? Vulcans really needed to do something about the deplorable quality of their sex education. Romulan females considered it a matter of duty (and self preservation) to ensure the males close to them were warned if they were susceptible. Vulcan females had a similarly keen sense of smell, yet they typically and stupidly said nothing.

"Your time comes. Soon." Vorik made a choking sound, twisted out of her hand, pulled out of her reach, and stood poised to flee, trembling furiously. She made eye contact.

"How dare you?" he hissed at her. Well, at least he knew what she meant, judging from the strength of his reaction. No need for the icky details. She pointed at her throat.

"Honor demands it. Not quite even, but the best I can do."

Vorik practically ran out of Sickbay. "Well, I hope whatever horribly offensive thing you said to him was worth it." The EMH scolded her. Trumari shrugged. She was probably in for some kind of trouble, but she'd seen the way Vorik looked at B'Elanna, and the way she in turn looked at Tom Paris. That kind of trouble was worth avoiding, even if it cost her personally. Anyway, trouble aside, since was the honorable thing to do the easy thing to do?

* * *

A/N: I hope my use of line breaks for perspective changes works. Please let me know if they become disruptive to your reading experience, and I'll try something else.


	11. Respecting privacy

A/N: Now we see the results of Vorik's reaction to the last chapter's events. I won't be rewriting the episode _Blood Fever,_ just filling in some missing scenes. I have two reasons for this. One, this story is not an AU, so we all already know what happened on screen. And two, my Vorik muse finds the entire subject incredibly embarrassing and will mutiny if I make him do anything that isn't absolutely necessary for the story.

* * *

Chakotay was not at all pleased at the report on his desk. He really thought she'd changed. He kept his voice carefully neutral as he commed her. "Ensign Trumari."

"Here, sir." She replied from her quarters, rather than conference room one, or the bridge, where she typically worked.

"Report to conference room two immediately."

"Yes, sir. Should I come in uniform?"

"As you are." He didn't want to wait. If a formal reprimand was truly in order, she could get into uniform and the Captain could deliver it.

"Yes, sir."

Trumari reported promptly. "Sit, Ensign." She sat. "Having a day off duty rotation?" Chakotay asked casually, commenting on her civilian dress.

"Not exactly sir. The Doctor has ordered two days of rest. I nearly died last night. Apparently, I'm allergic to leola root." If the matter at hand hadn't been so serious, Chakotay might have laughed. Most of the crew _wished_ they were allergic to leola root, and now someone actually was.

"Well, unless you can explain yourself, you'll be spending those two days in the brig, and then some."

"Sir?" She looked mildly puzzled.

"I've got a disappointing report on your conduct from Ensign Vorik. He's accused you of sexual harassment."

Trumari looked surprised, and then angry, but she suppressed the expression quickly. "What specifically is it that I'm supposed to have done?"

Chakotay shook his head. "Why don't we start with your perspective on what happened last night and this morning?"

"Yes, sir. Well, I was trying to eat dinner late last night when I had a bad reaction to the food. I collapsed in the mess hall, and no one answered when I tried to call for help. I'm not sure why Vorik had come in, but he found me and carried me to sickbay, since the transporters were offline. We ah, exchanged words a bit later when I was feeling better, and he seemed pretty ticked off, but I definitely didn't _harass_ him."

"You didn't sniff his neck while he was carrying you?"

Disgust flitted across Trumari's face. "I don't _think_ so. I didn't have much control over where my face was, and I was a bit out of it. I suppose I could have. I do remember noticing how he smells."

"Does he smell good?"

Trumari flushed. "Sir!" she protested.

"Well?"

"I don't see the relevance."

"Just answer the question."

"Yes, he does." She muttered.

"Alright, so you are attracted to Vorik."

"That doesn't mean I've been harassing him!" _True enough, it didn't._

"Vorik claims this is merely an escalation of a consistent pattern of incidents." He'd provided a rather long list, actually, and a statistical analysis.

"Incidents? We've hardly spoken in the two and a half years we've been on this ship, except to fight ! I've tried to make friends with him, honestly, but he won't have anything to do with me. He's so rude to me off duty other people have called him on it. He's so cold when we have to work together that other people leave the room shivering! There's been some petty bickering, but harassment? No."

"I get the picture. Is that what you argued about in sickbay?"

"No, sir. That was a private matter."

"Vorik says you 'made an inaccurate, culturally inappropriate observation of a sexual nature with the intention of inflicting discomfort and humiliation." _Whatever that actually means._

"No, sir. I did not."

"Well, why don't you tell me what you did say? Maybe I'll see things your way, consider the circumstances. I've noticed the difficulties between you two, I'm prepared to be understanding. You aren't the only Maquis to continue rubbing some of the original Starfleet crew the wrong way." Chakotay suggested.

"The friction between Maquis and Starfleet is practically irrelevant. I'm afraid the source of _our_ difficulty lies far deeper than that. The tension between us isn't rooted in transitory politics, but in thousands of years of ideological divide."

"You're trying to tell me that quiet, hardworking, generally polite Vulcan is a racist?" Chakotay asked skeptically.

Trumari shrugged. "Overall, no. He clearly has no problem with humans, Bolians, Betazoids, Bajorans or half-Klingons. He does seem to have a problem with Romulans. It's quite common. Not everyone is as open minded as say, Tuvok, and Spock's goal of reunification is generally regarded as foolishness."

"So you believe Vorik's perception of you unduly skewed his perception of what you said?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm still going to know what it was, hear it for myself. So out with it, Ensign."

Trumari sighed. "I can't do that sir."

"Why not?"

"It's a very private matter, sir. If Vorik wasn't specific, I have to honor that.""

"You know that makes you look guilty?"

"I know sir."

"And if I ordered you to tell me?"

"I would have to decline to answer." Apparently Romulans were as obsessive about privacy as Vulcans were. If she wasn't just trying to cover up her guilt.

"It's up to you, Ensign. An automatic seven days in the brig, or full disclosure of the incident, and you might be off the hook entirely. If you choose the brig, and I discover that the incident was more serious than I currently have evidence of, you'll be in there a whole lot longer, and your choice will likely be considered a confession."

Trumari bowed her head, and steepled her fingers, the way he'd seen Tuvok do. "The brig, sir." she said softly. _Well, fine. If you'd rather go to the brig than trust me, you can._


	12. Forum chat

A/N: This chapter takes place just before _Blood Fever_.

* * *

Vorik was disappointed when the author _TricksterTouched_ failed to post the promised chapter to the comm board. He found an invitation to a private group chat forum about the matter.

 ** _OPS: Maybe they're sick. They did mention not feeling well._**

 ** _NotaFairy: No one's been to sickbay for anything serious, not for days._**

 ** _Flyboy: maybe they went on that away mission with Tuvok?_**

 ** _DlnE2: maybe they ARE Tuvok?_**

 ** _MyWay: Don't be ridiculous. I doubt Tuvok would even read this, let alone write it._**

 ** _BaconLettuce'nTomato: Any theories, Spelunk? You're the best at predicting where the plot will go._**

Vorik considered how to reply. He made sure his answer was characteristic of the anonymous persona he had adopted.

 _ **Spelunk: I do not think my methodology will work. It is one thing to predict the twists and turns of a narrative based on an author's established body of work, and quite another to attempt to theorize why the author has not provided the next installment on time.**_

 _ **BaconLettuce'nTomato: You just seem to know them best, that's all.**_

 _ **Spelunk: Speculating at possible commonalities between the characters and the author's past is entirely different than speculating at real time events in the author's life. I really have no idea why TricksterTouched hasn't posted. I don't have any theories. I don't even have enough information to speculate.**_

 _ **DlnE1: Maybe they're an actual spy and they got caught.**_

 _ **DlnE2: Now you're being silly. There's no way there's another Seska on board. I mean, what are the odds, seriously? Anyway, the brig is empty, isn't it. So sush.**_

 _ **OPS: Actually, the brig isn't empty.**_

 _ **Flyboy: Yeah, it's not.**_

 _ **DlnE2: Seriously? Who's in there? What'd they do?**_

 _ **Flyboy: Ensign Trumari, poor woman.**_

Poor woman? Hardly.

 _ **NotaFairy: Really? What for?**_

 _ **DlnE1: Okay, well, that proves it. TricksterTouched has to be Trumari. It's too big of a coincidence. I mean, who else on board is most likely to be a spy, anyway?**_

 _ **BacoLettuce'nTomato:**_ **Tuvok.**

Vorik suppressed a smirk. Bacon had a point. Tuvok was a known undercover operative.

 _ **Spelunk: I suppose it is possible, but unlikely, that TricksterTouched is Trumari. However, she isn't in the brig for espionage.**_

 _ **MyWay: No, it's a nasty, but fairly routine disciplinary matter.**_

 _ **NotaFairy: But Trumari is such a nice woman, and she hasn't been in trouble for forever.**_

Nice woman? Trumari? Who was this NotaFairy, and why was he/she so clueless?

 _ **Flyboy: Well, I'm pretty sure it has something to do with a certain Vulcan engineer. Something along the lines of she said something offensive and he over reacted. Like always.**_

Vorik found himself frowning. His reactions to Trumari's offenses were always reasonable and logical. Weren't they?

 _ **Spelunk: You think he's in the wrong?**_

 _ **Flyboy: I guess it depends on what she actually said. She won't tell me, so I suspect it was kinda bad. On the other hand, like I said, he always over reacts. She was nothing but nice to him until she got so tired of being smacked down that she started fighting back. Overall, the guy's alright for a Vulcan, but I can't stand the way he treats her.**_

Alright for a Vulcan? What was that supposed to mean? Was it an insult? It was, wasn't it?

 _ **BaconLettuce'nTomato: I had heard something happened a few days ago. I didn't realize it was something serious. Vorik's okay, really, but Flyboy is right, he treats Trumari like dirt. I haven't figured out why. I mean, I'm practically the vice-president of the hate on Trumari club, but at least I've got decent reasons. Her species isn't one of them, but I think maybe, for Vorik, it's at the top of the list. It might even be the only thing on it."**_

Vorik smacked his padd down on the table, irritated. He was not prejudiced! He looked down, and was surprised to see that he'd broken the PADD, shattering it.

 _ **Spelunk has logged out.**_

* * *

The forum chat continued on without Vorik, the ship's computer the sole observer of all the participants.

B'Elanna Torres crowed in triumph and typed gleefully.

 ** _BaconLettuce'nTomato: Ha, go chew on that for a while, Vorik!_**

Tom Paris dropped the pool cue he was holding in his other hand.

 _ **Flyboy: Wait, what?**_

 _ **BaconLettuce'nTomato: Spelunk is Vorik. At least, I'm pretty sure he is.**_

Captain Janeway raised an eyebrow over her coffee, and put it down long enough to type on her PADD.

 ** _MyWay: Interesting tactics._**

 ** _Flyboy: Viscious. I like your style Bacon. Still, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around our buddy Spelunk being that guy. Are you sure?_**

Harry Kim paused an experimental playback accompaniment for his clarinet composition to reply.

 ** _OPS: Yeah, since when did Vulcans read fiction?_**

 ** _BaconLettuce'nTomato: He reads it on break, I've seen him doing it. I haven't actually seen him working up the analyses, but don't you think if a Vulcan was going to read fiction, analyzing it to death is exactly what they'd do?_**

 ** _MyWay: I agree with Bacon. I persuaded Tuvok to read a novel once, and that's exactly what he did. I was afraid the analysis was going to be longer than the book._**

 ** _Flyboy: LOL. Hey, Bacon, if you knew all along Spelunk was Vorik, and suspected TricksterTouched is Trumari, why'd you say that about him knowing TricksterTouched the best?_**

Jenny Delaney yawned and snagged a turn at the mirror while she tapped on her PADD.

 ** _DlnE1: Yeah, why? It's sounds like they don't get along at all._**

 ** _BaconLettuce'nTomato: Vulcans aren't exactly in touch with their feelings, right? So, I figure, he only thinks he dislikes her. He probably feels something, but is miss-identifying the emotion. There is definitely some serious chemistry there._**

 ** _MyWay: That's not enough, though, is it?_**

 ** _Flyboy: Maybe somebody should lock them up alone together until they work it out_**

 ** _BaconLettuce'nTomato: somebody on the bridge send her to engineering and I'll make it happen._**

 ** _OPS: I'll think of something_**

 ** _MyWay: I'm not sure that's a good idea just now_**

 ** _Flyboy: I agree. We need to wait. At least a month._**

Megan Delaney waggled her eyebrows at her sister conspiratorially while she entered her text with voice recognition.

 ** _DlnE2: So, anybody up for asking TricksterTouched to confirm the 'she's Trumari and a Romulan spy' theory?_**

 ** _OPS: *censored* no!_**

 ** _BaconLettuce'nTomato: I still have scars from last time I suggested she was a spy. No thanks._**

 ** _NotaFairy: I will_**

 ** _Flyboy: You know she carries a knife around under her uniform, right?_**

 ** _OPS: What? Is that even allowed_**?

Kes grinned mischeviously as she entered her latest contribution to the conversation. She was quite sure she could get away with just about anything.

 _ **NotaFairy: She's not going to stab me.**_

 _ **MyWay: Yes. Cultural accommodations to the uniform code can be made. Since Trumari's been granted an exception, technically, she could wear it over her uniform, if she wanted.**_

 _ **NotaFairy: Then why don't the Bajorans on board get to wear their earrings?**_

 _ **MyWay: Cultural accomadations, not religious.**_

 _ **NotaFairy: I'm not clear on the difference.**_

 _ **BaconLettuce'nTomato: There isn't really. Starfleet and the Federation government just like to pretend there is. It's a hold over from times of oppression by religious majorities in Earth's history. Starfleet is such a strictly secular organization in the interest of fairness that it's actually become an oppressor.**_

 _ **MyWay: You really think so?**_

 _ **DlnE1: Considering how many of my Academy classmates dropped out because of it, I'd have to agree. Some people do manage, but they find it pretty hard. Starfleet loses a lot of good people that way. We go on about new life and civilizations, honoring people's cultures, exploration and friendships, about self determination for alien species and non-interference, but we don't allow humans the same freedoms, and the minute an alien takes an interest in Starfleet, we ask them to leave behind all the parts of them that don't match up with secular human culture.**_

 _ **MyWay: That's certainly food for thought. Anybody mind if I change the subject?**_

 _ **OPS: please**_

 _ **DlnE2: off the soapbox, DlnE1. We get it.**_

 _ **DlnE1: Fine. Anyway, I have an 18 hour shift scheduled for tomorrow. Night everybody.**_

Jenny Delaney threw herself on her bunk and reminded Megan to switch to text entry, or she'd start chucking things. Preferably fragile ones that belonged to Megan.

 _ **DlnE1 has logged out.**_

 _ **MyWay: So, if Trumari is our mystery author, how soon do you think we can expect a chapter?**_

 _ **OPS: well, she's not out for another three days. I'd give it about two after that, don't you think?**_

 _ **BaconLettuce'nTomato: Probably. I have to go, too. I need my beauty sleep if I'm going to face Vorik in the morning without cracking up or looking guilty.**_

 _ **Flyboy: LOL**_

 _ **BaconLettuce'nTomato has logged out**_

 ** _NotaFairy: Exams tomorrow. I'm going to bed too. Goodnight everyone._**

Kes watered her plants and settled in to meditate for a little while before she slept.

 _ **N** ** _ota_ Fairy has logged out.**_

 _ **OPS: Tuvok'll be back tomorrow. If I'm drowsy he'll throw me off the bridge.**_

 _ **MyWay: And the Captain wouldn't?**_

 _ **Flyboy: She's too busy making eyes at Chakotay to notice.**_

 _ **OPS: LOL.**_

 _ **MyWay: Well, that's….interesting. Yet another thing to think about. Well, I'm out, too. Got to keep the junior officers in line.**_

Kathryn Janeway groaned and put her head down on her desk, and then started laughing, trying to imagine Tom and Harry's reactions.

 _ **MyWay has logged out.**_

 _ **OPS: *censored***_

 _ **Flyboy: censored is right. I think we've been made. MyWay is Janeway!**_

 _ **OPS: strategic retreat!**_

 _ **Flyboy: Evasive maneuvers!**_

 _ **OPS has logged out.**_

 _ **Flyboy has logged out.**_

 _ **DlnE2: I'm laughing so hard I can't even breathe. My roommate is about to mutiny. You still lurking Cosmoboy, or did you forget to log out again?**_

Mortimer Harris took a break from working on his theoretical dissertation while simultaneously watching several forums to answer. Technically he wasn't supposed to be doing either while he was on duty, but who was going to come clear down here and check on him?

 _ **Cosmoboy: Lurking? I prefer covert observation. Serves them right. I hope she sends them to the brig with Trumari.**_

 _ **DlnE2: You're no fun.**_

 _ **Cosmoboy: So I hear.**_

Mortimer grumbled to himself. Horrible, horrible woman that Trumari. She ought to be in the bridge just for how terribly humiliatingly she'd refused to go out with him. Saying no was fine, but she didn't have to rub it in! And he was not a dungeon troll!

 _ **DlnE2-Goodnight.**_

 _ **Cosmoboy has logged out.**_

Megan deactivated her PADD at Jenny's insistence and kicked the upper bunk petulantly, then settled in to sleep.

 _DlnE2 has logged out._

* * *

A/N: This may be the longest chapter so far. I hope it was a good read. Unfortunately I wasn't able to format the forum posts in a way that made them clear what they were, and separated them from the rest of the chapter smoothly. Also, Harry's name was supposed to have an 'at' symbol in it, but the site won't allow it. : / Next chapter I'll be skipping straight to 'missing' scenes in _Blood Fever._

The cast of the chapter, just in case it wasn't clear.

DlnE1 and DlnE2-The Delaney sisters, Jenny and Megan.

NotaFairy- Kes

OPS- Harry Kim

Flyboy- Tom Paris

Spelunk- Vorik

MyWay- Kathryn Janeway

BaconLettucen'Tomato- B'Elanna Torres

Cosmoboy- Mortimer Harris, Voyager's theoretical cosmology dungeon troll


	13. Proposal or proposition?

A/N: Scene One: In which Tuvok is embarrassed. Takes place after Vorik's proposal and the subsequent trip to Sickbay, and before B'Elanna beams to the planet.

* * *

Tuvok eyed the disheveled young Vulcan with considerable discomfort. He'd already offered what advice he could. What else could Vorik want?

Vorik steepled his trembling fingers. "Tuvok, you have been a trusted advisor to me, the closest thing to a clan elder I currently have access to."

Tuvok nodded his acknowledgement of the statement. He had a son near Vorik's age. Exercising a semi-paternal role with the young man had come naturally. "I ask you now to act as a clan elder would."

Tuvok considered this. "You wish for me to act as intermediary."

"Yes." Vorik whispered. "If only she could be persuaded to speak with me, at the least, I believe she would change her mind."

"You have already made a logical appeal, which she rejected." Tuvok pointed out.

Vorik shuddered, closing his eyes. "It isn't logic I would speak of. I was not able to express myself in Engineering as I truly wished to do. I…"

"There is no need to continue." Tuvok said, uncomfortably. He didn't really need to hear any embarrassingly emotional confessions of affection. "I will accept this role, and speak to B'Elanna."

Vorik nodded and resumed pacing his quarters. Tuvok found himself sincerely hoping that B'Elanna would change her mind and that would be the end of the matter, because by accepting the elder's role, he had taken on himself some rather serious obligations. Well, at least he knew where to find Vorik another mate if it came to that. The brig.

* * *

Scene Two: In which Vorik throws a tantrum and bawls like a baby. Takes place after B'Elanna beams down to the planet.

Tuvok returned to his quarters, something Vorik really didn't appreciate. A comm message with B'Elanna's answer either way would have sufficed. "Lieutenant Torres has reiterated her rejection. You must now consider your alternatives."

Vorik let out an insuppressible cry of pain and frustration. "What did she say? Why, why not?!"

"It should be sufficient to say that she does not share your affections. Moreover, she is at this time quite hostile towards yourself."

"Hostile?" Vorik whispered.

"She finds this matter of Vulcan biology distasteful in the extreme, and promised to enact serious violence upon you, should you persue her further."

"She wants to hurt me?" Vorik was aghast. He loved her! How could she want to hurt him?

"Specifically, castrate you. As I said, you must now consider your alternatives."

"What alternatives?" Vorik shouted angrily. "I want B'Elanna!"

"A woman you cannot have. Calm yourself." Tuvok told him sternly. Vorik tried. "I have arranged a potential mate for you. She will be here soon. If you cannot come to an understanding, the Doctor is working on something, I believe. Whatever it is might buy time."

"I understand." Vorik shook with the effort of trying not to cry. Once Tuvok was gone, he gave in.

* * *

Scene 3: In which marriage is proposed with the lights off. Takes place while Tom, Neelix and B'Elanna are exploring the caverns. Vorik is still aboard Voyager.

Trumari found Vorik face down on the floor, weeping in the dark, surrounded by the mess he'd made of his quarters. Either he was in complete despair, or he had a migraine. _Actually, it's probably both._ She came and knelt by him on the floor. He ignored her completely. Tentatively she reached out and touched his head, stroking his hair, trying to soothe him. Gradually, it worked, and he sighed as she traced the edges of his ears. He let her maneuver his head to her lap, and she continued her ministrations. "Tuvok sent you?" he murmured.

"He did."

"He explained...what I need?" It had not really been necessary. She'd witnessed the scene in Engineering, could smell Vorik's growing distress.

"Someone to comfort you. To take care of you."

"You understand what that means?"

"I do. I have done this before." Of course, last time, the man in question had been her dearest friend, barred from his wedding to his bonded betrothed by the threat of certain death (since Nerit was a weakling artist and the would be challenger a professional lirpa-wielding soldier and athlete) and the primary challenge on her part was keeping him from trying to leave whenever he forgot he'd just married _her,_ of making sure he remembered who she was.

With Vorik, she not only would be fighting to keep him with her, but to get him to forget who she was, to not care. So far, he didn't seem to have noticed. She attributed it to the darkness, and to use of her casual voice. She'd rarely spoken to Vorik like this. Normally she was either using formal voice or cursing at him, often in Rihann. Sometimes both at once. She would need to make sure that he knew, before this went too far.

"A comforter." Vorik murmured. "What is it that you want then, of me, as compensation?"

"I'm not a whore." Trumari said sharply, flicking his ear. He flinched. "Nerit _married_ me. So will you, if you agree, for one year."

"I apologize. It's a Vulcan custom. I assumed that's what you meant. A contract marriage then? I need to be assured that you are really mine, even if only temporarily."

Trumari resumed running her fingers through Vorik's hair and massaging his scalp. "Promise me a mind meld afterwards then, when its safe. One year of marriage. If we don't work together, you can run off after B'Elanna or anyone else you want, after that. I know you don't really want to marry me."

Vorik sighed and finally relaxed. "Agreed. A mind meld. Why that?"

"I miss it. Plus, I'd really like to be friends. I won't ask anything more than that, from the marriage."

"I will try. I have just one more concern. Is there any chance...any chance of a child?"

Trumari sighed herself. "The chances of my conceiving right now are ridiculously high. But, you really shouldn't worry too much." she added bitterly, "I've never been able to carry a pregnancy to term."

Vorik captured her topmost hand and pulled it into ozh'esta. Trumari's gut ached at the gesture. "I grieve with thee. How many children have you lost that way?" He seemed genuinely sympathetic. Well, that was an improvement over their last discussion on the topic. He'd basically accused her of murder and she'd broken his nose. She'd gotten a pass on assaulting a superior officer for "medical reasons and extenuating circumstances" and Vorik had gotten a long lecture from Tuvok about making assumptions.

Trumari knew that Vorik truly was sharing a shadow of her grief, even if she could not read him in return. "Five, before I stopped keeping track. Multiples run in the family."

"So many." Vorik breathed. " _I_ would not leave you alone for that. Not like he did." He sensed that?

"It wasn't his choice. My work took me away so often, and the last time…"

"He was dead." Vorik supplied. This was dangerous. She could not afford a telepathically induced sympathetic pon farr, not when Vorik might still reject her. Not on top of what was already happening.

"I asked for a meld _later,"_ she chided him gently, tapping his forehead.

"Sorry," he murmured.

They sat in silence for several minutes. "I can't," he muttered. "I really can't, not yet. I still want B'Elanna."

"It's alright. We have plenty of time." Trumari assured him. "Just relax."

And he did. In fact, he relaxed so much he fell asleep.

Trumari watched Vorik sleep on the floor. _This isn't normal. Either he's even earlier into this than we thought and it's going to be really rough, or far, far later, and I'm afraid to find out the answer._ She tidied Vorik's quarters as he slept, then replicated him a simple meal. If he could eat, he was probably alright. If he couldn't, or if he stopped being coherent for more than a few minutes at a time, then he wasn't. She would need to keep him talking to monitor his condition. She lit a candle on the table when he started to rouse.

* * *

Scene Four: In which Vorik tries acting sexy and makes a fool of himself. Takes place around when Neelix is hurt and B'Elanna has left him behind. Vorik is still on Voyager.

Vorik woke feeling rather strange. "Have a nice nap?" the woman asked him lightly.

"It would have been better in bed," He groused, "and not alone."

She chuckled. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"Well, you are."

"Oh."

"In a good way." Vorik amended. The joke had obviously fallen flat.

"Well, that's good to hear. Why don't you come and eat?"

"Certainly." Vorik said amiably. However, approaching the table, he flipped the superfluous tray of food off of it, picked her up out of her chair, and set her on the table in front of him. He then proceeded to kiss her enthusiastically. Yes, much better than food. She tried to pull away from him as he intensified his kisses and caresses.

"Vorik!"

"What?!"

"Stop a minute. We need to talk a bit."

"No, we are definitely done talking." He chuckled. He contemplated carrying her to the bed. Was it too far? She was a bit taller than him.

"Vorik," she said more firmly, "I'm serious."

"So am I. We were already agreed!" he was starting to feel just a little bit angry. She twisted out of his arms. Ah, she wanted to play some more first. He could wait for that. He grabbed her around the waist from behind as she tried to escape and began nuzzling her neck. She struggled lamely, but froze when he moved on to nibbling on her earlobe.

"Vorik, listen to me!" she squeaked. "It's important! Besides, the agreement was _marriage_!"

"Nothing is more important than this, right now," he breathed on her neck, pushing on her shoulders. She really was just a bit too tall. She dropped to her knees. "Vorik, do you know who I am?" she persisted, as he worked his way up her ear, now able to reach.

"Mine." He replied.

"My name?" Vorik laughed.

"No. Tell me, then." He snapped playfully at the top of her ear, thinking that at most he'd graze it. Instead his teeth sank painfully deep into pointed flesh. He froze, instinct warring with thought and emotion as sulfur flavored, copper based blood oozed into his mouth and the woman screamed _. *Hurt my mate, no! bad! shouldn't hurt my mate/NOT my mate, want B'Elanna/Where is my bondmate, have to get home, where is she?/Pointed ear, blood, NO NO NO NOT TRUMARI!_ _ **Disgusting!**_ _*_

"Get out!" he screamed aloud, shoving her away, collapsing, sobbing, crawling away.

* * *

A/N: I hope all the little snippets worked well. This chapter was kind of an experiment for me, one I'm really not sure about the results of. If it really is awful, I might just post each one individually instead of together. Also, this is officially as explicit as this story gets, and my idea of what rated 'T' is supposed to be.


	14. Inconvenience

A/N: This chapter takes place just prior to the Doctor taking Vorik to the holodeck, where he insists he was a perfect gentleman, and NOTHING HAPPENED.

* * *

Trumari clutched her ear, reeling as Vorik completely freaked out. Nothing she said or did could calm him down, and all she got for her efforts was a fist to the face.

"I'll be back later." She told him, repeating herself until the message sank in.

"Come back and I'll kill you." He snarled savagely.

Trumari shuddered and left, trying not to cry. Each moment that passed on her way to sickbay without passing anyone she sent up a prayer of thanks.

Tuvok just happened to be in Sickbay, no doubt consulting with the Doctor. The hologram began scolding her as soon as he learned what she wanted "Have you been fighting again? I thought we'd got your impulse controls beyond that." he asked, scanning her, failing to notice the nature of the injury.

"I haven't been fighting." She muttered. The Doctor finally noticed her ear.

"Ensign, do you….have anything to report?" he asked her quietly. Trumari was uncomfortably aware of Tuvok's scrutiny from the Doctor's office. Was that concern? Disappointment? Disgust? Morbid curiosity?

"No, doctor. This was an accident." The hologram scanned the bite.

"Well, I suppose there's no need to ask _who_ did this. There's only three people with the appropriate incisor, cuspid, bicuspid, tricuspid dental signature aboard. Tuvok's got an alibi, and you couldn't possibly have done this to yourself. The presence of saliva dictates this was no holodeck mishap. I suppose I really should run a DNA analysis, just to be sure..."

"No thank you Doctor, just fix it please."

"Ensign, other than the injury to your face, is there anything else you need?"

"No, I'm fine."

"No bruises or scratches for me to heal? Emergency contraception?"

"What? No. I told you, I'm fine! Why are you even asking!?"

The Doctor scanned her some more, as if he thought she might be lying. "Well, that's good. Trumari, if Ensign Vorik is going around assaulting people, I need to report it, whether he can really help it or not."

"Well, he isn't, so you don't." _Possibly mostly because he's angstily locked himself in his quarters._

"Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable discussing the matter with Tuvok?"

"Not really." But the hologram wasn't listening. Tuvok was summoned. Quite possibly he'd heard everything. Trumari rolled her eyes at the Doctor, who was standing off to the side, frowning at some reading he'd gotten.

"I went to Vorik's quarters about an hour after I got out of the brig." She told Tuvok. Of course, he knew this already, since he'd escorted her to the door. The Doctor didn't need to know that, though.

"Why?" Ah, good, Tuvok had gotten the cue.

"I became aware of Vorik's current condition." Actually, she'd known it was coming, and known for sure as soon as she'd stepped out of the separate air recycling system of the brig into the main ship.

The Doctor looked puzzled, and cut in. "Does the entire ship know?"

"I don't think so. I'm just familiar with the symptoms."

"Alright, but if you knew what was wrong with him, what were you doing there?" Trumari steepled her fingers for patience. _Seriously?_

"Your purpose in Ensign Vorik's quarters?" Tuvok prompted.

"To offer myself as a substitute for B'Elanna." She ground out.

"I guess we can see that didn't go over very well. I'm not surprised." The hologram gave Tuvok a meaningful look. What was that about?

"You failed then? He rejected you?" Tuvok asked her.

"Not the idea as such, just me. I don't think he realized who I was at first, it was dark and he was exhausted, but once he'd had a nap and this happened," she pointed at her ear, "he became distressed and insisted I leave." _Yes, insisted as in had a total freakout and threatened to kill me._

The hologram looked faintly horrified. "You initiated intimacy while concealing your identity?"

"What? No! I tried to tell him, as soon as he woke up, but he wasn't interested in listening just then."

"And before that?"

"Nothing really happened. I assisted him in relaxing and we talked. He had a headache. Vorik fell asleep just as I was getting around to checking that he knew who I was."

"Vorik's degree of irrationality has increased." Tuvok observed.

"I'd say so." Trumari agreed. "Either this started three or four days ago, or something's accelerated things. If it is an accelerated cycle, he doesn't have much time."

"Accelerated cycle?" The Doctor asked

"An intensification and compression of the symptoms. It gives Vulcan males far less time than usual. Instead of seven or eight days before fatality, they have as little as one."

"That is misinformation. Acceleration is rare, and when it does occur, one or two days at most is lost." Tuvok stated.

"Where your family originates perhaps. Vorik is from a different race, a difference province. Incidence there of some kind of cycle disruption is close to one in five hundred. That makes the chances of a really terrible thing like that much higher."

"Why did you take care to obtain such information?" The Doctor asked.

"It runs in my late husband's family. I wished to be prepared. It proved fortunate I had. It continues to be relevant." Not that she really want to answer the question, but she figured she better legitimize the information the Doctor apparently didn't have.

"So the fact that your own yamareen levels are off the charts, even for you?" _Thank you, Doctor, so much, for keeping my private medical information safe. I definitely wanted to share that with Tuvok, thanks._

"Normal." She said aloud. "In Romulans it is the females who carry the bulk of the burden of what was pon farr. This is completely normal, if inconvenient, due to the persistence of my alignment to my husband's cycle. And I do mean inconvenient. I am in no danger."

"And nothing to do with Vorik?"

"That is correct." And now she was lying through her teeth. It was so nice to be able to do that again. It wasn't Vorik's _fault_ per se, but his pheromones and passive touch telepathic eavesdropping had probably made it worse.

"Alright. If you need anything further, come back. Otherwise, I think you should get some rest."

"Very well. I may need leave later this week, and more holodeck time than I currently have."

The Doctor looked surprised. "Really? Does that work?"

Trumari was confused. Did what work, exactly? Her exercise and meditation programs to deal with what amounted to a monumental sized case of PMS? "Yes?" she said cautiously.

The hologram beamed. "I'll see that you get it. Thank you for the idea!"

As she left, she could hear the hologram pestering Tuvok for details about his aesthetic preferences in females, and whether he knew Vorik's. "Of course, I can't program a holographic mate to look too much like Trumari, it'd probably put him off." The door swished shut. _Wait, what? Okay, that's disgusting._ And offensive, in multiple dimensions _._ "Doctor, this line of discussion is inappropriate." Tuvok said firmly as he stepped through the door. "But…." "No." Trumari avoided making eye-contact with her mentor and walked off to her quarters. No need to make this any _more_ awkward.

* * *

A/N: This is the second to last chapter that's near being ready to go. I have a fair bit of the beginning of part three written, but I am not sure how much more plot and chapters I need to deal with the rest of part two properly. I was also thinking of posting a very first chapter for the one-shot collection in honor of Halloween. And of course I have homework and work work. :) I'll be working hard to keep posting often. It may be a little while before part three is up and rolling, so I hope you'll bear with me in the meantime!


	15. I really think I hate you

A/N: This takes place shortly after the Doctor's premature conclusion that Vorik has been cured, and just before Vorik shows up down on the planet.

* * *

Trumari was surprised when Vorik commed her. "I need your help," he said simply.

 _And if I no longer feel like helping you?_ She thought drily. Nonetheless, she went back to his quarters. Vorik was clearly much worse. He had his fingers pressed together in a trembling meditative pose so hard the flesh had gone white, and he was actually sweating, something Vulcans (and Romulans) didn't do until their cellular toxicity level passed a threshold that meant they were very sick indeed.

"I'm here." she said softly, since he didn't seem to have noticed her arrival. Had he preauthorized her entry? Was the lock on the door one of the things he'd broken in a rather obvious fit of rage? Well, it didn't really matter.

"I want you to help me." She knelt by him, and began stroking his face.

"I will." she promised.

"B'Elanna has been affected. I must go to her or we will both die." Well, that's not what she was expecting to hear. Poor B'Elanna. She hadn't thought Klingons could catch pon farr.

"She still won't want you." Trumari pointed out.

"Then she can declare the challenge or try and kill me herself, I no longer care."

 _He's pretty far gone alright_ , she realized.

"You know if you win, that you'll probably hurt her, don't you?"

He shuddered. "I am prepared for that…possibility, and the consequences." _Well, that's it, he's officially suicidal._

"I want you." She reminded him.

"You disgust me." he snapped. "It is your command codes I need, so I can override the security lockout on me and beam down."

 _I won't give them to you._ Trumari backed away to the door, but she'd been close to him, and Vorik was faster. He seized her by the face, and suddenly she couldn't even move, let alone break free.

"Your codes, one way or another," he threatened.

"You wouldn't," she said doubtfully.

He laughed darkly. Trumari was suddenly terrified. She could feel him testing the edges of her mind, what remained of her mental shielding.

"You wanted a mind meld. I don't think you'll like this one though."

Trumari gave in and told him.

* * *

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in sickbay with a migraine and a sore shoulder. Clearly he'd nerve inched her.

He, Vorik, was sitting up on the next biobed over, a fantastic bruise blooming on his face, pointedly not looking at her. He reeked of rejection and disappointment, as well as looking pretty miserable. _Ha, well, either Tom landed a one hit knock out, Tuvok got involved, or B'Elanna herself pummeled some sense into him. I hope it was B'Elanna, more embarrassing that way._ When the doctor had her sit up, she began to vomit. The hologram handed Vorik a bucket.

* * *

Vorik suspected Trumari wasn't aiming for the receptacle quite as conscientiously as she might have done, since much of the foul liquid was ending up on him.

"I hate you." she told him between bouts. "I really think I actually hate you."

She then provided him with a litany of reasons. "I've tried to be friendly, I really have. I've tried to be understanding about you growing up in a narrow-minded culture. I've tried proving I'm not anything like my reputation. But no, you won't even be polite to me. You won't even consider the fact that you might be biased, and you won't talk to me long enough to get to know me. I made sure you knew about your condition so you could take care of it, and I kept my mouth shut even when you had me thrown in the brig for it. I let Tuvok talk me into offering to share my honor blade, even though you'd just jeopardized my appeal case in the Federation, and what I really wanted to do was 'share' it right through your hand and into a bulkhead!" Vorik flinched slightly.

"Then you bit me like some kind of animal, or a Klingon or something, and I was nice and told the Doctor it was an accident, and that your stupid Vulcan overkill pheromones haven't been making me sicker than I have to be right now. And then after doing I shudder to imagine _what_ in the Holodeck, which I _knew_ , you still managed to trick me into coming back to your quarters, by acting absolutely pathetic, where you extorted my command codes from me by threatening to violate my mind!"

Vorik felt his insides squirm in shame. He'd been bluffing, but just threatening her that way was probably the thing that would trouble him the longest about all of this, barring B'Elanna's rejection.

"I'm done, I really am. Come near me next time, and the only koon-ut you'll get out of me is _kalifee_!"

Vorik knew that if Trumari had been Vulcan, she might be demanding kalifee _now._ As it was, she was Romulan, and probably wouldn't need bloodshed to solve the problem he'd quite possibly left her with. Also, as it was, he wasn't going to be eating anything he hadn't replicated himself in his own quarters, for a very long time.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" Trumari demanded.

"I did nothing dishonorable on the Holodeck." It was technically true, if not wholly accurate, and the only thing he could think of to say that wouldn't be an admission of guilt.

The Doctor injected a hypospray into Trumari's neck. "No apologies, _really,_ Mr. Vorik?"

"Apologies are illogical. Also, to apologize would be to acknowledge fault."

"I suppose you claim to be a victim of your biology."

Vorik considered this. He nodded. "Yes."

Trumari fumed a moment, and then slowly grinned. It was disturbingly feral. She seized the vessel into which she had a short time ago been vomiting, and upended it on his head, dropping it so that it fell down and covered his face. He struggled not to gag as he pulled it off his head. "You realize that was assault."

Trumari smirked at him. "Biology. Am I done here Doctor?"

"Well, I'm a bit concerned about your level of aggression, as well as a few other things…"

"Oh, I've got a plan to deal with that." Trumari smiled brightly.

"A safe plan?"

"Oh yes. What time is it?" The Doctor told her the time. "I'm scheduled for two hours in the Holodeck in fifteen minutes."

"Very well, I'll release you then."

Vorik really wasn't sure he wanted to know what Trumari was planning to do on the Holodeck.

"Okay then, if anybody needs me, I'll be there, murdering holographic Voriks."

"Have fun." The Doctor said dryly.

"Oh, I _will_. Bye!" Trumari left Sickbay, waving cheerfully at the Doctor. Vorik shuddered.

* * *

A/N: So, last finished chapter. I've been focused on schoolwork and surviving work (I was outside supervising children on a playground in 35 degree weather for four straight hours while it snowed nonstop today) so the next chapter's not ready yet. I'm still going to be focused on schoolwork over the weekend, and probably the next three weeks until the end of the term, but I hope to get the next chapter up around that time. If you haven't already, check out my Halloween themed on-shot chapter, _Vorik Tells a Ghost Story_ under _Jolan'tru: A collection._ If you found this story because you read that first, welcome!


	16. Vulcans are always serious

A/N: I did it, I survived! All my finals are done. This chapter isn't as good as I would like and the next one is even shakier, but I don't want to lose my posting momentum. I hope it meets _your_ standards 😊 . And, it's still November!...Technically.

* * *

For the last week, B'Elanna hadn't quite been able to shake the feeling that that Vorik was stalking her, and it had _just_ been starting to creep her out.

When he asked her to the Luau, B'Elanna concluded that he was just trying to be friendly and really sucking at it.

When he proposed and she found out about the whole pon farr thing, she realized her initial instinct had been right. Stalking her like prey is exactly what he'd been doing.

Breaking his jaw had been extremely satisfying.

The next time they'd both been on duty in Engineering, B'Elanna had really been hoping to just pretend the whole thing hadn't happened, but Vorik was making that absolutely impossible. Obviously, he wanted to pretend everything was normal too, since he'd simply shown up for his shift and gotten on with his usual duties. She was okay with the lack of apology, since she'd heard Vulcans didn't really _do_ apologies, and it would have been painfully awkward anyway.

B'Elanna had planned to chalk the whole nasty experience up as the cost of interspecies work relationships and leave it be, but Vorik really wasn't cooperating. In fact, he was driving her crazy, crazier that he had been when (unbeknownst to her) he'd been pursuing her. And she was pretty sure it wasn't her being in a bad mood (although, she definitely _was.)_

No, other people were getting annoyed with him too. It was just that he was so _pathetic._ He forgot instructions, dropped things, completed tasks incorrectly, and hit the wrong buttons on consoles, setting off alarms. Tal Celes would have been more useful. Finally, when Trumari came in to deliver a PADD from the Bridge, and he dropped a hyperspanner on a crewman's foot, quite possibly breaking it, B'Elanna kicked him out of Engineering.

"Get out. You're useless today! Get some rest, go to Sickbay, meditate, whatever you have to do, just don't come back until you're fit for duty!"

"Yes, sir." Vorik whispered, resolutely looking at his feet.

"And for Kahless' sake, look at me when I talk to you!"

Vorik's head snapped up, and B'Elanna was startled. She'd expected some sign maybe of embarrassment, or intimidation, possibly fear (rumor had it Trumari had been murdering him in effigy on the Holodeck) but not…not…well, he looked like kicked puppy, that's what he looked like. Tuvok's phrasing days earlier, and possibly her state of mind at the time, hadn't made Vorik's supposed desire to "express his degree of attachment," sound either appealing, or like any degree of tender emotion.

Obviously, either Tuvok had epically failed to deliver Vorik's declaration of affection or she hadn't been in any condition to hear it. She was inclined to blame Tuvok. Not that Vorik being head over heels in love with her would have made him much more appealing, or changed her mind about rejecting his proposal. It definitely complicated matters, though.

"Just go for now, Vorik," she said more gently. _An embarrassed Vulcan I thought I could handle,_ B'Elanna thought, _but a heartbroken one? I have no clue what to do._

Trumari handed B'Elanna the PADD. "Don't feel too sorry for him," Trumari cautioned her.

"Are you kidding?" B'Elanna shot her a disgusted look. "You weren't there to see what he did." She hissed more quietly.

"On the planet? No. But stuff went down up here I don't think you've heard."

"Like what?"

Trumari raised an eyebrow. "He was confined to quarters, complete security lockout, and yet he beamed down. Have you not wondered how?"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Not yet. He didn't just hack the computer?"

"Nope. Used my command codes."

"What? How'd he get them?"

"Let's just say, if we ever get back to the Alpha Quadrant, I can give him a good reference for the Tal Shiar interrogation service's apprenticeship program."

B'Elanna grimaced. "Yuck, no offense, Trumari, but those guys are nasty. I'm not usually one to get stuck on traditional definitions of honor, but the Tal Shiar aren't exactly known for having any."

"You think I don't know that? Hello, _Starfleet_ uniform!" Trumari gestured at herself. "I didn't like working with those guys even when Starfleet intelligence ordered it directly. He'd fit right in."

A slight change of subject was definitely in order. "So," B'Elanna grinned at Trumari, "have you really been killing holograms of Vorik on the Holodeck?"

Trumari returned the smile. "You bet I have! Do you want to borrow my program?"

"Maybe. What kind of program?" B'Elanna wasn't really interested in murdering Vorik, but pummeling him could be fun.

"Oh, it's just a recreation of our mutual hometown. I added him so I can hunt him down. Mostly I've been poisoning him, or sneaking up behind him with a knife, honestly, but you could totally put a bat'leth between his eyes if you wanted. Or, if you don't want to straight up kill him, you could give him some more of what he got planetside. I don't think you'll need to alter his hologram's parameters any, he's kind of a wimp."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes at that. "Are you implying I couldn't beat him if he wasn't?"

Trumari smirked. "Well no, but now that you mention it…"

"Oh, shut up." B'Elanna said mildly.

"Anyway, it's starting to get a little old, so if you don't want to use it, I'll probably delete it soon. The Vorik character I mean. I've been working on the setting itself since the first time I got holodeck privileges."

"Why'd it take so long?"

Trumari raised an eyebrow at B'Elanna, again. "Besides the fact that I suck at holoprogramming? There's not a standard scan image file for me to work from for most of my own neighborhood. _Whoever_ entered the basic data for that section of Raal replaced it with images from some other town."

"Something wrong with your neighborhood?"

"No, not at all. It's just a little…is the word Bohemian? for some people's taste. _Whoever_ did it is probably trying to promote domestic tourism, and doesn't want Raal's offworlder district to put the snobby Vulcan types off."

"That sounds like an oddly specific theoretical whoever."

Trumari rolled her eyes. "Vorik's parents actually tried to have my neighborhood condemned, and his father's on the local tourism board. It's 'logical'."

"Right. Well, I'll run the program. Did you add Vorik's psyche profile to his hologram?"

Trumari frowned. "What would have been the point if I hadn't?"

B'Elanna was disturbed for a moment, then thoughtful. "I see what you mean. Do you mind if I don't just kill it?"

Trumari grimaced and put her hands up. "Whatever you want to do, I don't want to hear about it." she backed away.

"Oh, for Kahless' sake. Not like that. I thought I'd try talking to it, get some insight on…..my personnel management issue."

Trumari looked relieved. "Oh! Yes, of course, go ahead. You might have to make it a little bit smarter though. I'm not sure how to do that."

"And we don't want to accidentally make any sentient doppelgangers. One Vorik is enough."

Trumari shuddered. "Actually, there's kind of two of him."

"What?"

"Identical twin."

"Really? I had no idea. Why would he tell you something like that?"

"Actually, he didn't. I've met the other one, met him before Vorik. Much nicer. Has a sense of humor, even."

B'Elanna made a face of mock outrage. "Well whatever did we do to get stuck with this one instead?"

Trumari shrugged. "Well, this one didn't earn an _Enterprise_ posting. The amazing Taurik did much better at the Academy than his throwback brother Vorik."

B'Elanna looked at her, confused.

Trumari explained. "That's what their names mean."

B'Elanna cringed. "Who does that to their kids? I mean, talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Right? Anyway, I've got to go. I have to bring the Captain lunch or she won't eat, just drink coffee all day." Trumari went to go.

B'Elanna laughed, "Wait a second, will you? I've got a question."

"Yes, sir?" Trumari looked anything but respectful, but not genuinely insubordinate.

"Do you mind being a yeoman? I mean, I know you've been promoted to Ensign, but you're still a _secretary_."

Trumari raised an eyebrow. "I like it better than the other main job I've had."

"Good point."

"In fact, if I don't end up dead or locked up when we get back, I'd like to go back to fetching and carrying for Ambassador Spock, if he'll have me."

" _Spock!?_ Seriously?" B'Elanna demanded.

"Vulcans are always serious." Trumari deadpanned.

Trumari left with B'Elanna laughing hysterically. "Says a _Romulan_!" she managed to shoot back before the other woman disappeared out the door.


	17. Uh oh

Vorik cringed internally as Trumari stalked past him. Or possibly externally, since she may have noticed. Also possibly, the fact that he was breathing was sufficient provocation. In any case, she decided to accost him.

"I'm not surprised B'Elanna can't stand the sight of your cowardly face in Engineering," she hissed at him. Vorik looked for some way to avoid the perhaps justifiably angry Romulan, but unless he intended to break into a sprint in the corridor past several crewmates, he was stuck.

"Lieutenant Torres is concerned for my welfare and has instructed me to rest further before returning to duty."

Trumari scoffed. "Right, because 'get out, Useless,' sounds so _caring_."

Trumari's observation pained more than it should have, even if the quote wasn't entirely accurate.

"I do not believe you are in any position to accurately gauge B'Elanna's feelings, given your acrimonious relationship."

Trumari grinned at him, similarly to how she had a few days ago before dumping a bucket of vomit over his head. Clearly, she was not yet recovered from _whatever_ had disrupted her emotional equilibrium. He sincerely hoped telepathic contact with him was not the cause, mainly because he did not want to have anything to do with fixing the problem. "Actually, we're getting along pretty well lately. She's going to borrow my 'murder Vorik' program. We just had a nice long talk about what went on up here before you tried to kill Tom and ended up in a brawl with her, instead."

Vorik felt the blood draining out of his face. B'Elanna was upset enough to want to slay a holographic proxy of him?

"In fact, we are pretty much in agreement about how _absolutely. honorless. you. are."_ Each word felt like Trumari had stuck her dagger into his katra and twisted it.

Trumari backed him up against the wall without actually touching him, one hand on her side, where she presumably kept her assassins' style honor blade. " _Though"_ , he wondered, not for the first time, " _why an assassin would require a blade associated with honor is perplexing. Moreover, why, by all the gods, does the Captain let her wear it when she is clearly unstable?"_

Despite his internal anguish, Vorik was very much concerned for his physical wellbeing. He glanced up and down the corridor, expectant that at least someone had noticed the confrontation and his predicament. The corridor was suspiciously empty. Apparently, as soon as Trumari had cornered him, his crewmates had fled, which would have required some of the sprinting he had elected not to do earlier, given the distance to the nearest junctions and doors. And, supposedly, he was the only coward on board.

Trumari had noticed him looking. "My reputation for unpredictable mood swings appears to have resurrected itself." She observed dryly. She backed away from him.

"I am not dishonorable." Vorik told her quietly, "Even if my conduct has been somewhat lacking lately. You are well aware of the reason why."

"What I'm aware of, Vorik, is that you are a miserable worm." She hissed at him.

He raised an eyebrow at that. Vulcan worms were wholly innocuous. "Cute" even. Was she implying he was helpless?

"Not a sandworm, the floppy, spineless, slimy Terran kind they skewer on hooks and use as fishbait!"

 _Oh, well, that makes more sense._

"I am not." He insisted. "I realize the threat I made was…." He forgot exactly what he was going to say when Trumari let out a frustrated shriek and punched the bulkhead. "Shut up!" she howled at him as she gripped her arm, wincing in pain as green welled up between her fingers. "Oh, Sunder it!" she swore.

"You appear to have injured yourself seriously," he observed.

She began cursing him thoroughly in apparently untranslatable Rihann, swaying on her feet. She commed the Doctor. "Doctor, I think I…broke my arm."

"Well, if you're going to go beating defenseless holograms to death with it, I'm really not surprised."

Trumari rolled her eyes. "I haven't done any such thing. I'm on duty Doctor. I bumped into Vorik on my way to the kitchen and lost my temper." She hissed.

There was a long pause on the other end of Trumari's comm call. "I suppose it's too much to hope that he's not in need of medical attention as well?"

Trumari gagged, and her face slowly blanched. "He's fine, more's the pity! I didn't even touch him!" she spat, pulling her arm in close to herself and staggering off.

"Doctor to Vorik…Vorik?"

Vorik raised an eyebrow at Trumari's retreating figure.

"Go ahead, Doctor."

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Ensign Trumari was quite truthful."

"Good. Make sure she gets to sickbay, would you?"

"Very well," Vorik said reluctantly. He followed Trumari at a discrete distance until she took a turbo lift. He let her ride it up alone, given the highly annoyed looks she'd been shooting his way, getting on it with her would have been unwise. Fortunately, by the time he rode the turbolift up after her, he was able to watch her walk into sickbay. Unfortunately, he'd barely begun to meditate in his quarters when the Doctor summoned him back to Sickbay.

* * *

Trumari was sitting crosslegged on the main biobed, visibly agitated. "Let me out!" she demanded. Vorik concluded the force field was up. He was grateful. He noted the presence of Tuvok with no small degree of discomfort.

"No," the Doctor replied firmly to Trumari's demand. He turned to Vorik. "We have a bit of a problem."

Vorik raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Trumari's not…well, she's not well."

"Shut up!" Trumari snarled. "It's none of his business!"

"I quite agree." Vorik said evenly. He didn't want to be involved, Trumari didn't want him involved, therefore his presence in Sickbay was illogical.

"Well, I can't prove it as of yet, and Trumari has vehemently denied that it might be the case, but I can't help but think that it is. Tuvok is inclined to agree with me."

Vorik looked to Tuvok. "Why? It can't possibly be a sympathetic reaction, not after all this time. The stress would have killed her by now."

Tuvok shifted uncomfortably. "Trumari is Romulan. How she might or might not react to such a thing is an unknown quantity."

"I am right here." Trumari hissed. "And I am telling you I am fine! I have _been_ fine!"

The hologram addressed her directly. "Your basic psych scan and brain chemistry say otherwise."

"They're wrong!"

Vorik scoffed internally at the idea. He was responsible for calibrating those instruments. He doubted that, very much, as inconvenient as it was. He offered to run an equipment check, just in case. As he had believed, they were in perfect working order.

"That leaves us with two options then. Trumari, either your abnormal tests are the result of…certain biological processes, or you are suffering from a significant psychiatric disturbance." Vorik resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he often saw humans do. At what time had Trumari possessed psychiatric normalcy? Her being disturbed was a given.

"Romulan females are apparently more sensitive to pheromones than Vulcan ones. Perhaps that's a factor?" the Doctor wondered.

Tuvok looked questioningly at Trumari.

She shook her head, drumming her undamaged fingers on her knee. "He's back to normal. Not that that would make me crazy anyway."

The Doctor frowned. "Unfortunately, I don't have any baseline readings for that. It's not part of a standard examination."

"And telepathic contact?" Tuvok questioned. "I assume there was some, at least to a minimal degree."

Vorik was growing more uncomfortable by the second. "I don't believe it would be accurate to describe our degree of contact as minimal." He admitted.

"Is there any chance you bonded?" The Doctor asked.

Vorik shook his head. "I had already bonded, with B'Elanna."

Tuvok shook his head. "It's not unprecedented, but it is very unlikely. What was the nature of your contact, specifically?"

Vorik knew it was illogical to hope that a fissure would open up in the floor of Sickbay, dropping him to the deck below and allowing him to make his escape, but he desired it nonetheless.

* * *

A/N: I am still struggling with these chapters, so I hope it turned out alright. Merry Christmas!


	18. Your approval is not required

A/N" And the awkward continues...

* * *

"Vorik?" The Doctor prompted the jerk expectantly. Trumari had her face in her hands. She _was_ horribly embarrassed, but mostly she wanted Tuvok and the Doctor to think that she was really upset.

Vorik visibly squirmed. Tuvok narrowed his eyes. _Slightly_. "Were your actions somehow inappropriate?"

Vorik steepled his fingers. Obviously, he was feeling guilty. " _Good,_ " Trumari thought, " _You ought to, but that's not enough!"_

Truth be told, what Vorik had done was bad enough to land him in the brig for quite a long time, and possibly knock him down to crewman, disregarding the extenuating circumstances for certain, and possibly while considering them, depending on the spin she put on it. But, that wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want Federation "justice", she wanted something far more personal. Call it revenge if you will, but she wanted to _hurt_ him. While pounding the snot out of the snot might not line up with Federation values, what she wanted was not only traditional on Vulcan, but _legal._

"Vorik." Tuvok prompted again.

Vorik closed his eyes as if resigning himself to his fate. "Some of it was…krashik."

The Doctor looked blank, no doubt searching his linquistic database. _Violent._ His face fell. "Just what are we talking about?"

Tuvok looked as disappointed as she had ever seen him. _So far, so good._ "How serious was the offense?" he practically growled.

Vorik opened up his mouth to incriminate himself, probably. Now that, she didn't want. That was happening on her terms.

"Ikap'uh t'du ru'lut!" She snarled at him.

Now Vorik just looked confused. "Why should I shut my mouth?"

"Just do it! Nam'uh ralash-fam!" Vorik blinked and shut up. Finally, he was quiet.

"I suppose then you'd care to disclose what happened, then?" The Doctor suggested.

"Not really." Trumari sighed.

"But something did happen."

Tuvok was practically glowering. "Ought I to be arresting Ensign Vorik?" Vorik flinched.

"That wouldn't do anybody any good. Certainly not me." Trumari argued.

Tuvok looked more thoughtful than usual. "Did you have something in mind? It must serve both yeht-gav and resolve your current difficulty."

"Justice?" The Doctor frowned. "Why don't we just worry about getting her well and then figure out whether Vorik needs to be punished for whatever he did? By the way, I really do need to know what it was."

Vorik actually fidgeted. "Nan kae'at k'lasa," he said reluctantly.

Tuvok steepled his fingers. "You _threatened_ to violate her mind?" He sounded just the tiniest bit exasperated.

The Doctor frowned. "Well, I don't see how threats could have actually caused this kind of problem, as horrible as that was, Ensign Vorik."

"I believe it was the kae'at kwul that followed the threat that may be the source of the problem."

"A telepathic attack? That makes more sense, and shame on you, but it still doesn't explain how severely out of the norm her readings are."

"I do not understand it either. The normal consequences for such an attack should have run their course some time ago." Vorik was started to look noticeably edgy.

"Perhaps you did more harm than you intended." Tuvok suggested.

"How?" Vorik asked. Trumari ground her teeth. Watching Vorik getting grilled by the disapproving Tuvok and Doctor was moderately satisfying, but it wasn't enough.

"I think it's established he wasn't in full control of his faculties," she pointed out impatiently. "If I really must go on the assumption that we formed some kind of bond, I want it gone, and I want my due out of him."

"Your due?" Vorik questioned. He looked apprehensive. _Good. He should be._

"You are calling for Kali-tor, for pagun." Tuvok logically concluded.

"I am." Trumari said firmly.

Vorik looked like he was going to throw up. Not that a human would have noticed.

The Doctor grimaced. "Please tell me that's not some barbaric duel to the death. My Universal translator is not being particularly helpful."

"That is up to Trumari. She sets the terms. Also, Doctor, please refrain from attaching your values to our culture and judging it by them."

The hologram swelled angrily. "I'm a doctor, not a philosopher! If a custom causes casualties, I'll call it whatever I please!"

Trumari rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to kill him. Not on purpose anyway."

"Not on purpose?!" The Doctor exclaimed. "That's not good enough!"

Trumari shrugged. "Even in a hand to hand duel, things happen. And besides, there's a good chance of him hurting me." _Technically._ If she fought fair, which she wouldn't. _  
_

"What is the point of something like that anyway?" The Doctor asked.

"Besides the satisfaction of pounding his face in?" Trumari asked.

"Yes, petty vengeance aside." The hologram sniped.

"Unofficial structured violence as the resolution to conflict or grievance is well documented among humans. In the past, it was even part of their legal code. Vulcanoid neurology being what it is, we have retained it." Trumari did her best Tuvok impression. Tuvok didn't appreciate it. _Oh well._

"Trumari is correct. Her request is quite legal."

"Is that so? Well, maybe next time Tom Paris is late for a shift in Sickbay I can challenge him to a duel over it."

Despite the Doctor's snarky protestations about the matter, Tuvok ordered Vorik to the holodeck to meet Trumari. "If its biologically necessary to solve her neurological problem, that I can understand. But this as _justice?_ That I have a problem with."

"Your approval is not required." Tuvok informed him.

* * *

Trumari snickered to herself as she made the final adjustments to her holodeck program. Oh, she was no genius computer programmer, but manipulating real people? That she could do. Just a little bit of a tweak to her home town scenario for the time period Vorik had been ordered to meet her here, and B'Elanna had already told Trumari she'd be there shortly afterwards, as well. Not that B'Elanna knew about the 'duel', of course. Now all Trumari had to do was pound the twerp, and then sit back and _watch_. The Klingons were right. Revenge was best dished out cold.

* * *

A/N: Or or two more chapters before the real fun starts. I'd like to apologize for not posting sooner, I've just been swamped with real life and spending my precious free time reading and playing games instead of writing. I'll try not not to let a whole month and then some go by before the next update!


	19. Revenge

Chapter 19: In which Trumari gets her revenge.

* * *

Vorik entered the holodeck, where Trumari was presumably waiting to engage him in combat. She'd specified an unarmed duel, but he was not at all confident that she would honor those terms. He'd expected some setting appropriate to sparring or a formal ritual combat, but instead he found himself in the Interplanetary District of his home town. He could see the bright smear of the Voroth Sea through the gaps in the brick buildings. Exotic and familiar spices as well as perfumes assaulted his nose. He blinked, his eyes watering at the sudden contrast with the near sterility of shipboard air. He'd rarely visited this market, and never with his parents approval. A number of things were sold here, that while legal (like meat) were not acceptable.

Vendors offered him various wares far more loudly and insistently than a Vulcan merchant in another market would have thought it polite to do. Vulcans and expatriated Romulans mingled freely with humans and other aliens. Not of course, that he could readily tell which were Vulcan and which were Romulan. Both dressed less conservatively in this neighborhood than was common elsewhere, and he well knew that not all Romulans had the brow ridges typically associated with the Rihansu. Trumari, for example. Some Vulcans had them as well, including members of his own extended family. One could not tell for certain which was which race by the amount of emotion expressed either, since the programmer had apparently known that this place was home to many of the Vahklass, the V'tosh katur.

He couldn't imagine that Trumari had gone to the trouble to program this herself for their fight, so it must be in the ship's general database. He made a mental note to locate it later, for his own use.

Vorik turned his attention to the matter at hand-his duel with Trumari. Why had she chosen a program like this? Was he supposed to be finding her? She hadn't actually said that she wanted a contest of strength. "It is logical for her to seek another kind of battle, since she would inevitably lose a straightforward contest of physical strength," he thought aloud. "However, it might be unwise to presuppose that she is still capable of any degree of logical thought at this point."

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, he was hit on the back on his head. Initially believing it to be some kind of serious attack he dropped and took cover under a vendor's cart, urgently checking himself for injuries. He was embarrassed to discover that he was perfectly fine, other than a damp, odorous, sticky patch on the back of his head. _Someone_ had thrown rotten fruit at him, which had splattered on the back of his head. He sighed, cleaned the worst of it off and emerged from cover.

The holographic vendor was viewing him with inadequately concealed ire, and others nearby appeared amused. He realized he'd knocked a significant portion of the merchant's wares to the ground. Apparently, the holographic market people weren't programed to ignore adverse interactions with real made for a more authentic experience, but it was inconvenient just now. He helped the hologram return the fruit to the cart, enduring two more squelchy missiles while he did so. Vorik logically calculated the possible vectors of the rotten fruit, and set out to look for Trumari in that direction.

* * *

It wasn't until he was lying on the front step of a holographic recreation of his childhood home with Trumari's Starfleet issued boot on his throat that he realized the logical error, and utter folly, of assuming the odoriferous produce was thrown by Trumari herself as a mere taunt, rather than thrown by holograms as bait in a well laid _trap._

"Stupid." Trumari remarked.

"I am merely unfamiliar with the range of tactics and strategy at your disposal."

"Your own fault. You should have accepted my invitations to play. You might have learned something." She changed topics abruptly, grinning manically. "Do you like my decorations?"

Vorik strategically feigned confusion. "I am unaware of any aesthetic alteration to the environment." Technically, she hadn't decorated, so much as attempted to engage in psychological warfare by sprinkling corpses across the town like flower petals at a Terran wedding.

"I meant the bodies." She clarified. "I've never seen you terrified, so I worked with my memories of Taurik. I'm sure there's not that much difference, though. I'm looking forward to finding out for certain." Vorik didn't want to think about the implications of either her seeing Taurik terrified, or himself.

"I found them disturbing, but not particularly intimidating." He said carelessly, reasoning that lying was a logically acceptable tactic under the circumstances. "I recommend you seek psychiatric help when we're finished here."

Trumari issued an enraged shriek and pressed down harder on his throat. He took the opportunity to take advantage of her shifting weight and yanked her foot off his throat and out from under her. He'd agreed to fight her, he'd never agreed to _lose._ Besides, whatever was negatively impacting Trumari's behavior was obviously still in force, so the fight wasn't over yet.

Trumari proved to be fairly adept at close quarters grappling as well as the art of ambush, though her grip was strangely weak. Instead of trying to strangle him with her hands, she kept trying to press her forearm and elbows into his throat. He also suffered several very near misses of knee-to-groin. Vorik struggled to either push her far enough away from himself that she could not reach his throat with her disadvantage in grip strength, but the few centimeters advantage in height she had over him made that difficult, and every time he came close, she tried to knee him in the groin. He tried a nerve pinch, but was shocked when it didn't work. Trumari had been vulnerable to the technique before, so why not now? He pinched her left shoulder four times before giving up on the technique and resorting to bashing her in the face. He had just managed to pin her beneath him and was attempting to subdue her by choking when he heard a horrified gasp behind him.

Vorik's stomach lurched as the gasp was followed up by curses-familiar, _Klingon_ curses.

 _B'Elanna._

Frustratingly, Trumari somehow managed a triumphant smirk while gasping for breath.

"You know I can never un-see this, right?" B'Elanna exclaimed, walking around to where he could see her. "Seriously, Trumari, this is messed up."

Trumari began silently quaking with laughter. "And I can never un-know that Vorik apparently enjoys this kind of thing, too, either."

"I do not enjoy this." Vorik protested.

"Your face says otherwise!"

"This is not what it may appear to be!" he ground out.

"I can think of more than a few things this might be, and they are all pretty disturbing."

Trumari wheezed her vindictive glee at B'Elanna's disgust. In a flash, Vorik realized he had been set up. This wasn't justice, or resolution, this was _revenge._

* * *

Later, he would tell himself that the tightening of his hands and the jerk of his arms had been reflexive, that he had not become so angry that he had deliberately strangled Trumari and forcefully slammed her head against the ceramic tile of his holographic front step. It wasn't a particularly effective self deception.

* * *

A/N: So, Trumari has succeeded at making Vorik look very, very bad in front of B'Elanna. I'm contemplating making the next chapter in B'Elanna's point of view, but as has been very accurately pointed out to me, I have trouble with her characterization, so we'll see. I may just skip straight to the next stage of the story. Once again, my apologies for the late chapter, and the same usual excuses.


	20. So Awkward!

A/N: A whole chapter in B'Elanna's viewpoint. I hope I did better with her than before. I picked over it several times to get it to where it is. I also realized just before posting that the chapter I'd written was a bit of a monster, with a bit of Vorik's POV oddly stuck in the middle, so I broke it up to flow a little better. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

B'Elanna cringed at the sickening thwack of Trumari's head hitting the ground. It sounded like the holographic Vorik had probably cracked her head. The pseudo-Vulcan got up off his victim and looked down at her, appearing to attempt to compose itself. "I believe she requires medical attention." He intoned.

"You think?" B'Elanna retorted scathingly. "And a psych eval too. What was she thinking, messing around like this with the safeties off?"

"I cannot pretend to comprehend her mental processes in the _slightest_." Holo-Vorik replied emphatically.

"Of course not." B'Elanna sighed. She tapped her combadge. "Torres to the Doctor."

"Go ahead Lieutenant."

"I'm with Trumari on the holodeck. The idiot's gotten herself concussed and more than a little strangled."

"I expected something like that. I'll have Ops beam her in. Doctor out." _He expected it?! What a bunch of crazies!_

A moment later Trumari dematerialized and B'Elanna was left with no one but a disheveled holographic Vulcan for company. She eyed it speculatively.

He met her gaze defensively. "Did you want to fight me too?" he asked, sounding weary.

"That could be fun later. No, I actually came to talk and walked in on whatever that was. I really don't think I want to know." She really didn't, that had looked pretty gross.

"It was not…we were not…I…" It was actually funny, watching the holo-Vorik struggling to come up with some rational explanation for its behavior, when really, there wasn't any. "Look, I get it, sort of. It's a Vulcan thing. Klingons aren't much better."

"It is a Vulcan thing." Holo-Vorik agreed, apparently relieved to leave it at that. "What did you wish to discuss with Trumari, if I may ask?"

B'Elanna laughed, "Besides our mutual lingering desire to smack you upside the head for being a twerp?"

Holo-Vorik briefly closed his eyes, possibly seeking patience. " _Yes_."

"Well, actually, I came to talk to you."

Holo-Vorik looked mildly surprised. "What about?"

"Feelings. Mostly yours, for me." Holo-Vorik looked vaguely horrified. Ah, good, holo-Vorik was up to date on recent events. _And Trumari says she sucks at holo-programing._

"I was under the impression that the matter was closed, that you wished to hear no more on the subject."

B'Elanna sat on the steps leading up to the fairly impressive Vulcan house. "Well, yes, I would prefer it, for now at least, but you've been absolutely pathetic in Engineering, and I need you back in working order." Holo-Vorik grimaced slightly. B'Elanna patted the step beside her. "That besides, my…friend is obviously in distress." Holo-Vorik gingerly joined her on the ground. Well, this was going better than she expected. Holo-Vorik hadn't rushed off in a logical panic, or worse, started crying. Not that that was very likely, it was supposed to act more or less like the real thing.

"Am I your friend?" the simulacrum asked softly. B'Elanna wondered just how accurate the hologram really was. Practicing having this uncomfortable conversation with Vorik wouldn't do any good if the real thing behaved completely differently. It would be just a useless bit of self-torture.

"Absolutely." She dishonestly assured it. She wasn't sure she really wanted Vorik for a close friend, even if he ever did get over this stupid crush.

"Your responses to my proposals would seem to indicate otherwise. Especially the last two." He said dryly, looking sidelong at her. She repressed the urge to snigger.

"Hey! I wasn't quite in my right mind by then either, you know!" She'd actually meant it, and she still meant it, but she didn't need Vorik knowing that unless he really wouldn't drop it.

"Nonetheless."

"Look, would I have gone to sickbay with you, if I hadn't cared whether or not you were okay?" Well, really, she'd mostly been mad and wanted to know if he was sick, and whether she had a good excuse for punishing him later or not.

"I suppose not." Holo-Vorik conceded.

"It's just, I really don't see you that way. I don't know how old you really are, since Vulcans age differently, but really, you're almost a kid still."

Holo-Vorik released and long breath that was almost, but not quite, a groan. "I don't understand why you think so." The hologram sounded openly aggrieved.

"Sorry, I just do." B'Elanna said apologetically. Not that she was that sorry, really, but she was trying to be polite.

"I don't suppose a logical argument would change your mind about my maturity." The hologram mused.

"No. Probably the opposite." B'Elanna could have sworn the hologram rolled its eyes at that. _Interesting, is that something the real Vorik would do?_

"I am concerned by the possibility that you consider Tom Paris more mature than myself."

B'Elanna scoffed. "Not really, actually. In some ways he's worse, because he _chooses_ to be immature."

The hologram looked sidelong at her again. "Then he is simply more attractive."

"I guess?" _This is so awkward!_

Holo-Vorik looked down at his knees. "Perhaps also, you prefer human males as intimate partners."

"What?! Oh, honestly! I'm not discussing that with you! Is there something wrong with that anyway, if it's true? And I'm not saying it is!" She restrained herself from hitting the hologram. That wouldn't help.

Holo- Vorik looked back over at her, surprise on his face. "Of course, there is nothing wrong with it. It is simply inconvenient for me."

B'Elanna considered. Was this the hologram being programed not to offend her, or was it Vorik's actual opinion?

"Well, I hadn't really thought about it, but I suppose I do prefer human men."

Holo-Vorik looked back at its knees again. "Then I suppose I have been, as humans say, 'friend-zoned'." He looked across at her as she struggled not to laugh out loud at the absurdly antiquated expression. "That was not supposed to be amusing."

"I'm so sorry Vorik," she gasped. "It's just nobody says that, except in old 21st century novels, and historical dramas. Where did you even pick that up?"

Holo-Vorik looked somewhat embarrassed. _Is it_ blushing _?_ "You've been watching romances." The hologram shifted uncomfortably. "I required information on human courtship rituals. I also researched Klingon mating practices." It said defensively.

B'Elanna thought this hologram was getting a bit disturbingly lifelike. "I am so glad you didn't start singing Klingon opera in Engineering."

"I _could_." Holo-Vorik said, slyly.

"No. Just no." B'Elanna laughed. "I'd probably end up chucking a hyperspanner or something at you, and you'd think I was encouraging you. But seriously, you sing?"

Holo-Vorik nodded. _Well, that's weird. I really hope that people can't make such detailed recreations of me. I should probably hack in and see if anyone has, the perverts. And then consult with Trumari about appropriate revenge methods..._ "You should participate in one of those talent shows people keep throwing together." She suggested.

Holo-Vorik definitely rolled its eyes at that. "No?"

"No." Holo-Vorik replied firmly.

B'Elanna chuckled. "Yeah, I wouldn't do it either. Still, we have to find ways to entertain ourselves, right?"

"It is essential to crew morale." Holo-Vorik agreed.

"Speaking of entertainment, I'm guessing you won't be reading Trumari's stories for a while?"

Holo-Vorik just blinked at her.

"Nevermind." Obviously, she'd broken the hologram, reached the point where it couldn't extrapolate realistic behavior anymore. "So, you two have um…reconciled? Or was that as murder-y as it looked?"

Holo-Vorik practically glowered. "Given the lengths to which she went to attempting to humiliate me today, including lying to the Doctor and to Lieutenant Tuvok, I could not say we have reconciled. At all."

 _So, murder-y then. Interesting._ "Too bad. I always thought she was more your type than I am."

* * *

A/N: So much awkward conversation. Too bad B'Elanna's in for a nasty surprise. *evil writer laugh*


	21. Game

A/N: This is really the second half of the previous chapter.

Vorik stared at B'Elanna. "My type? Trumari?" He paused. "You _are_ aware of our surroundings?"

"Nice town, big house. What about it?"

Vorik gestured behind them. "My childhood home. She ambushed me here for maximum emotional effect. She failed of course."

"Of course." B'Elanna repeated. Was that sarcasm or sardonicism? He wasn't clear on the difference. "That _is_ a bit stalkerish." B'Elanna conceded. "I don't really see a big problem though. I mean, you're the one who's been obsessively analyzing those stories and making theories about what the person who wrote them must be like, and the kind of life they've had. You shouldn't be surprised she's researched you."

Vorik sighed internally. If he was going to make his position on any kind of relationship with Trumari irrevocably clear in the negative, some self-disclosure would obviously be required.

He stood up. "Come with me." He instructed her.

B'Elanna looked up from the ground at him. "Excuse me? Who tells who what to do around here?" she said.

"Please." He amended.

"Better." B'Elanna stood and dusted herself off. She turned and looked down over the town and out to sea. "Nice view," she commented.

"It is aesthetically pleasing." He agreed.

"So, you want to show me something?"

He nodded. It wasn't far to the nearest holographic corpse. It was lying on the ground, crushed by a fallen statue of one of his ancestors. He crouched and turned its face so she could see.

"That's creepy, sure, but it's not that bad. Certainly not worse than those stories. It's just three dimensional. Remember, you're pretty good with a creepy story yourself."

Vorik looked at her. "You recall the 'creepy story' in question is likely about Trumari's ancestors."

"You really shouldn't hold that against her." B'Elanna chided him. "Besides, she didn't actually confirm that her name is derived from Lunik whatever, that that's her family.

"Lunikelek" Vorik corrected.

"Again, _whatever_."

"There is still the crux of the issue however." Vorik generously ignored B'Elanna's inattention to less relevant facts. She lacked a superior Vulcan memory, and had no reason to prioritize retention.

"What?"

"She said she was working from a live model for the expression."

B'Elanna pondered this a moment. "Not you, right? Your brother."

"Yes. Initially I had no reason to believe that she was in any way involved with what happened to him. Now I know that she was."

B'Elanna frowned. "What happened to him? What do you mean? All she said that she'd met him, that he was nicer than you."

"That is both absurd and disturbing. Taurik was taken prisoner by the Tal Shiar while on leave after a friend died. He was tortured for the post-construction engineering specifications of the Enterprise, some of which he designed himself. He was freed in a prisoner exchange approximately a year before Voyager was deployed."

B'Elanna appeared disturbed by the revelation. "Was he okay afterwards?"

"No." Vorik replied flatly. He was not about to get into the details of finally getting leave to visit his brother on the Enterprise, discovering he was unfit for duty, reporting him, enduring his brother's anger over his forced medical leave, and then getting his father's permission to have Taurik temporarily committed against his will. No, it was definitely unnecessary, and he doubted the sibling-less B'Elanna could understand or offer anything beyond empty, trite condolences.

B'Elanna cursed. "So, you're thinking, even though she could have met him somewhere else, this probably proves otherwise."

"Precisely."

B'Elanna appeared at a loss for words for a moment.

* * *

"I think I'll renew my membership in the hate Trumari club." As she said it, B'Elanna realized, that for a moment, she'd forgotten she was speaking to a facsimile, that quite possibly all of this was made up backstory for the hologram, possibly provided by Trumari herself. "Hatred is illogical." Holo-Vorik muttered.

B'Elanna scoffed at that. "What exactly have you been doing the last three years?"

"Avoidance of danger is not illogical," he argued.

"I'm pretty sure ticking off one of the most dangerous people on the ship is _not_ danger avoidance." B'Elanna pointed out. "Especially given the odds that this is all some kind of sick game," she added, mostly to herself.

"Did she ask you to come to the holodeck at this time?" Holo-Vorik asked her, abruptly.

"Yes actually. Why?" _Trumari programmed him to be aware he was on the holodeck?_ Something wasn't right.

"Then I concur. We have both been manipulated."

"For some kind of revenge?" Apparently Holo-Vorik was a bit paranoid.

"To humiliate me, in front of you." Holo-Vorik clarified.

B'Elanna snorted. "Well, that backfired on her." At least, if this had been the real Vorik, Trumari's supposed revenge plot had backfired. She really wouldn't have thought that badly of him for wanting to attack Trumari. The real thing was far too spineless.

Holo-Vorik nodded, looking unduly pleased with himself. "Our continued amicable interactions will no doubt disappoint her greatly." He said with satisfaction.

"You sure you want to keep poking the rabid targ?" B'Elanna asked.

"This has been a setback, but I am confident in my ability to 'stay a step ahead,' of Trumari."

"Don't be an idiot, Vorik. Do you really think you can out-think someone who's capable of pulling one over on _Tuvok?"_

Holo-Vorik looked taken aback for a moment. "I had not considered that."

"I would, if I were you."

Holo-Vorik nodded thoughtfully. "Computer, save a copy of the current program to my file." _Wait…oh, I am an_ **idiot _._** She began hurling mental invective at Trumari, who'd made as much a fool of her as she had Vorik. Not that Vorik knew it! She swore to herself that he never would, if she could help it.

The was the computer's characteristic tweedle-chirp, followed by "Unable to comply. The current program is locked to access by Ensign Trumari only."

Vorik muttered something B'Elanna was certain was the Vulcan equivalent of 'gosh darn it'. If she wasn't so mortified, she probably would have snickered.

"I'll see if I can recover the base composition files for you." She offered.

"Thank you." Vorik sighed. "Computer, end program."

The scenery around them disappeared, leaving her and Vorik standing in the empty holodeck. Yep, he was definitely still there. _I am going to_ kill _Trumari…. assuming Vorik doesn't get her first._

"May I return to Engineering tomorrow evening, for my normal shift?"

B'Elanna thought quickly. She would only be there for the first hour. She could probably avoid him. "Sure. See you then."

* * *

A/N: I may post an intermission chapter here, or in the Jolan'tru: A collection story, to show that things are more or less back to normal between the characters. I haven't decided yet whether it's needed, or where to put it. Other than that possible chapter, don't expect to hear from me with part three and the really good stuff until summer. I will still be writing and I might toss a few a chapters out in the Collection, but my focus will be on building up a buffer and getting homework done. I'm way behind on my classes and the threat of academic probation (bleh!) looms in my future. Sorry :(


	22. Dissed

A/N: I'm not dead! I'm so sorry guys. Anyway, here's the transition chapter I mentioned back in...April.

* * *

Tom Paris wasn't sure exactly how B'Elanna and Vorik had managed to get back on speaking terms, and he was pretty sure he didn't like it. Not that he really thought that Vorik and B'Elanna were ever going to be an item, and not that he wasn't grateful to finally know for sure that B'Elanna liked him.

No, it was the current eating arrangements he objected to. He'd had a blissful week of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners in the mess hall peacefully sharing a table with B'Elanna and Harry. Occasionally Trumari had joined them. With Vorik back in B'Elanna's good graces, the Vulcan was once again invited to dine with them, and Trumari was considerably less welcome than she'd been before.

Long before this mess made out of Vulcan and Romulan hormones, Tom and Harry had enjoyed the company of either B'Elanna or Trumari, with Vorik to put a damper on things whenever Trumari didn't get there first. Now they were awkwardly occupying three tables-Vorik and B'Elanna at the greatest possible distance from himself and Trumari on the first two, and poor Harry off in the Kuiper Belt alone on the third, since he'd arrived last.

He picked at his 'scrambled eggs and bacon' with considerably less enthusiasm than the dish deserved. Not, mind you, that it actually tasted anything like eggs and bacon, but it was still usually pretty good. B'Elanna was obviously not very interested in her meal either. Trumari was eating heartily, to all appearances oblivious to the atmosphere. "Hey Tru." B'Elanna finally said.

Trumari frowned slightly. "I don't recall giving you permission to call me that."

B'Elanna shrugged. "Okay, whatever. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you knew that I seem to have misplaced my respect for you."

"Again?" Trumari flipped a hand up and shrugged. "Oh well, collateral damage I suppose."

"Only a Romulan would consider a loss of honor 'collateral damage' during their failed revenge," Vorik actually sounded disgusted. He obviously wasn't quite back to normal yet.

Trumari raised an eyebrow, "I think we are using different dictionaries. I do not think that word means what you think it means."

Tom couldn't resist an inappropriately timed giggle. No, a snicker. Men didn't giggle. Everyone looked nonplussed but Harry, whom he'd recently forced to watch the 2D film in question.

"There is only one definition." Vorik said flatly.

Trumari raised both eyebrows, looked at Vorik pointedly, and made an odd clawing or scratching gesture in his direction. "I believe the smell here has killed my appetite." She announced, standing and carrying away her tray.

Vorik was observably annoyed. Tom resisted smirking at him. B'Elanna frowned at Trumari's departing back. "Did she just flip you off?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You do know what that is, right?"

"I am aware of that particular human profanity, yes."

"So that was some Romulan thing and you don't know what it means?"

"That gesture is of Vulcan origin, and I do know what it means. I do not however understand why she chose to do it."

"So she dissed you in your own language, so to speak." Harry commented.

"Whether or not Ensign Trumari respects me is irrelevant."

"True. Still, what did that even mean?" B'Elanna asked Vorik.

"That was the standard hand signal used to instruct trained sehlats to bury their feces."

Tom choked on his replicated coffee while laughing, causing it to dribble down his face and onto his uniform.

Vorik stared at him, nonplussed, while Harry and B'Elanna had a good laugh.

"I do not understand why that was funny." Vorik complained.

"She was saying that you're full of it, and that you stink." Tom explained.

"Full of what?" Vorik inquired, standing and gathering the remains of his meal.

"Feces." Tom elaborated, making sure to avoid slang so the twerp would be less likely to misunderstand.

"Illogical."

"Not really." Tom countered. "From her perspective, I'm sure it makes perfect sense."

"Because she is Romulan?"

Harry snorted. "I think it has more to do with gender, than with species, Vorik." Harry started to make his own exit from breakfast, the Vulcan on his heels, demanding that he explain his reasoning.

 _Oh, boy, if Harry of all people is giving Vorik advice about women, that Vulcan really is hopeless._


	23. Blind Date part 1

A/N: This chapter begins what I think of as the third, and final act of the story. First, I introduced you to Trumari, my more or less an OC, and to Vorik as I imagine him, then I dealt with the episode Blood Fever (eww). This last act is the entire point of the story, the part I actually imagined and began to write first-how Trumari and Vorik would get to know each other, and fall into mutual respect and appreciation, and maybe affection. Because, of course, Vulcans think love is both overly emotional and _shallow_ , and Romulans think romantic love is noble and sweet, but _stupid_.

Blind Date part 1

Vorik had approached Tom Paris with admitted trepidation. The other man was, under normal circumstances, the logical candidate for a "dating" mentor. However, the circumstances were hardly normal. Tom and himself had managed to repair their rapport considerably in the last two years, but Vorik was uncertain about trusting a man to help him find a mate who knew that he had once been perfectly willing to kill him to eliminate him as competition for B'Elanna's affections. Although he did not voice his concern to Tom, the human had expressed a great deal of enthusiasm for the idea. Tom had even managed to set him up with two weeks of daily dates with different prospective mates, an impressive feat considering the percentage of the ship's female complement that was single.

* * *

It was true, Vorik supposed, that Tom had a vested interest in helping him with his 'lovelife.' Tom was probably the only person on the ship that knew he wasn't exactly 'over' B'Elanna. Unless he'd told B'Elanna. No, he couldn't have, otherwise B'Elanna would surely have done something to get rid of him by now.

It was also true that he was running out of time to initiate a courtship with a respectable timetable, coming up against a ' _dead_ line' as the other man put it. Vorik was fluent enough in Standard to recognize the attempt at humor. He just didn't think that particular joke was funny.

And again, it was true that he did occasionally find Tom amusing, but as he walked into the holodeck for his fourteenth blind date in as many days, Vorik decided Tom was not funny after all. When he tried to leave and found that Tom had locked him in, Vorik decided that quite possibly, he would never be funny _ever again_ , because he was currently contemplating _homicide_. Again.

"Lieutenant Paris accurately predicted your attempt to leave," his 'date' commented. "I had not, however, realized he would take such drastic measures to prevent it." Vorik resisted the urge to sigh. Or scream. Whichever.

"We will be released eventually. We will simply have to find an agreeable way to occupy ourselves in the meantime." She reasoned.

"Agreed." He told her, and began walking swiftly away.

She trotted after him. "Where are you going?" she asked him. _Away from you, obviously._

"I am looking for something to occupy myself with," he responded, logically.

"There is nothing of interest here?"

"No." he said bluntly.

"A pity. I spent considerable time preparing this environment. It was my understanding that you enjoy caving." She managed to corner him before he could clamber up and over a wall. "We could try another program."

"Unless it provides us with separate pastimes, that would be pointless."

She cocked her head. "Did Lieutenant Paris deceive you as to the purpose of this exercise? It seems unlikely."

"I know why _I_ am here." Vorik said tersely. "I do not know why _you_ are here."

She raised an eyebrow. "You are in search of a mate. I am available. It is simply a matter of determining our compatibility."

"I was not aware that you normally considered compatibility before taking a mate."

She furrowed her brow slightly. "I am not certain of your meaning." That was an obvious falsehood. Trumari was many things, but stupid was not on the list.

"In any case, I am quite certain that we are not compatible, even if you are evidently compatible with most of the men on this ship."

"It is hardly logical to make such an assumption based on hearsay." She pointed out, serenely.

Vorik found himself grinding his teeth. "Stop."

"Stop?"

"Stop pretending to be Vulcan! You are Rihannsu, T' _Rumarie_!"*1 he told her.

"Very well." She said calmly, and then slapped him so hard she might have concussed him if it weren't for the holodeck safeties. "Is that more to your liking, _Vohr-ik_?"*2 she asked him angrily. "If you have a taste for violence, it would certainly explain your former interest in our chief engineer. Not to mention what you did to me before!" She sneered at him.

"It is not 'to my liking'," He countered, "but at least it is _honest_. And that was an accident!" Well, biting her had been an accident, anyway. He certainly hadn't _premeditated_ knocking her unconscious by smacking her head on the ground, at least.

"Attempting to elevate myself is hardly dishonest," she argued.

"Is that why you wish to associate yourself with me? To improve your reputation?" he demanded. If that was all she wanted, there were plenty of other single men on the ship, even a few she probably hadn't mated with yet.

"If I was what you seem to think I am," she contested, "do you think that Captain Janeway would have put me in a command position on her ship?"

"Perhaps she considers your _personal affairs_ to be none of her business."

Trumari began to flush an angry shade of green. "You, as the humans say, are a pig, and bigot besides. You have no evidence that any of the rumors about me are true, yet you illogically believe them, simply because I was born on what you consider the wrong side of an arbitrary line in space. Even Tuvok, for whom caution and suspicion is a necessary part of his duty, considers my origin irrelevant. So long as I act as a member of this crew, I _am_ simply a member of this crew. You have considered thirteen other possible candidates for a mate without regarding their species or planet of birth, yet somehow, _mine_ is unacceptable. Where is your precious Kol-ut-shan*3 now?" she spat at him.

"You were a violent criminal, and I see less evidence of rehabilitation than I might." To argue that he was not prejudiced against her as a Romulan might have been inaccurate, and he was not going to say it unless he was certain it was true.

"A violent criminal in need of rehabilitation?" she shook her head. "If that and an untrustworthy Romulan is all you see when you look at me, I am obviously wasting my time."

"And mine as well!" Vorik shot back.

* * *

*1- T'Rumarie is what Vorik assumes the original version of Trumari's name is, which would translate as "of the hedonistic festival of Rumarie." He's _wrong._

*2- Vohr-ik is the original version of Vorik's name, which Trumari has translated as throw-back, or primitive. She's wrong.

*3- Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. i.e. Vorik is a hypocrite.

The next chapter is most written, just needing some editing, and I'm not in a time crunch for my classes even though it's almost the end of term (for a change) so expect to see it soon!


	24. Blind Date part 2

Vorik was considering a further reply when suddenly the cavern floor underneath him jolted and shook. He and Trumari were showered with bits of broken rock. Larger pieces began falling.

"You programmed a cave-in?" Vorik asked incredulously.

"What? No! Of course not."

"Warning. Holo-deck safeties are offline." Vorik urgently tried to convince the computer to let them out of the holodeck or at least alter the environment or even just shut down the program, while he and Trumari scrambled away towards a less unstable seeming section of cave.

"Do you think Tom would tamper with my program?" Trumari asked him.

"I do not know." Tom might, if he thought it would be to his advantage, but he didn't think the human man was trying to kill him, not _yet_ at least. That _could_ change in approximately two years from now.

"Programming isn't my specialty, I may have made a mistake when I patched this together." Trumari admitted.

"You borrowed code from multiple simulations?" Vorik clarified.

"Yes," she said defensively. "Not everyone is a hotshot engineer you know." True enough, he was singularly talented, even if holographic systems weren't his original specialty.

"The technique is sound, but requires additional safety testing. There is a tendency for unexpected interactions between algorithms," he informed her.

"There aren't a lot of algorithms." Trumari told him. "It's supposed to be static! You know, beyond the usual wouldn't actually fit in this room thing."

"How is the program designed to terminate?" he asked as they scrambled through the tunnels.

"An overlook of the Fire Plains. I left a meal there." A 'picnic'? Probably Tom's idea, as the caving scenario likely was, as well.

"Perhaps we will be released if we complete the course."

"I hope so." Trumari was bleeding from a scratch to her face. She scrubbed at it and grimaced.

* * *

They proceeded through the cavern, not taking time to enjoy it's considerable aesthetics. Vorik was sure the cave would have been unchallenging, even for Trumari, had they progressed more slowly, but they were both apparently eager to get to the end of the cave, and hopefully, out of danger.

Finally, Tom contacted Vorik through the comm.

"Sorry Vorik, we got hit by some weird anomaly a few minutes ago and it's wreaking havoc with the computer systems. You should have been let out for a yellow alert, let alone something like this."

"Get us out when you can." Vorik said tersely.

"You'd better hope neither of us is seriously hurt when you do," Trumari threatened the human. "As much fun as we've both been having, I'm sure the other one would be quite happy to add you to the casualty list. And I want a new date!"

Tom laughed nervously. "Sorry, Tru. I'll see what I can do once the computer quits with this habit it's picked up lately of starting the self-destruct sequence without authorization."

Tom sounded stressed. Vorik made a few suggestions to be passed along. He was about to ask Tom to consider beaming them out if either of them was injured seriously, but the comms cut off.

"How much further to this overlook?" he asked grimly.

"I believe we just passed the halfway point."

* * *

By Vorik's estimation, they had nearly reached the exit when a fresh bout of shaking knocked Trumari loose from a slopping wall they were climbing down. She cried out three times in total, once when she first began to tumble down, once when she hit her head on a protrusion, and a third time when she hit the bottom, immediately after a distinct snapping sound. He had just watched her roll without attempting to intervene, but hurried down, somewhat concerned, although Trumari was already sitting up and cursing under her breath. He examined her despite her protests.

"It's not serious!" She insisted. He held his hand near her eyes, one at a time. It was difficult to determine whether her pupils were responding normally in such diffuse light.

"Are you dizzy?" he asked her.

"Yes." she said grudgingly. "But I did just go rolling downhill for several meters," she pointed out.

"Show me your wrist." he instructed, noting that she was self-splinting it.

"No." He could see no blood, so concluded that the likely fracture was hardly life threatening.

"Stand then." he challenged her. She struggled to her feet, swaying once she managed it. Her face was pale and sweaty by the time they exited the cave.

"If you'd learned proper Vulcan discipline, as a true d'Vel'nahr,* you could manage your pain." he commented.

"I _did_ learn." She muttered through gritted teeth.

"Then do it!" He was nearing exasperation, he realized. What was it about this woman that drew his emotions to the surface? Did he really resent Romulans that much? Or was she just particularly aggravating?

"I can't anymore." she said bluntly, sliding down a boulder to seat herself on the rug laid out with the meal she'd mentioned. Vorik tried vainly once more to convince the computer to let them out.

* * *

*Vulcan by choice. People who have adopted Vulcan culture and been granted citizenship. Most of them are the children of exiled Vulcans, or married to Vulcans, like Spock's mother.

A/N: Huh, I wonder why Trumari bugs Vorik so much? Sorry this took so long to post. I don't have a good excuse this time, so I'm just sorry. Anyway, I hope you enjoy part two of the worst blind date in Voyager history!


	25. Blind Date part 3

"Just come eat." Trumari told Vorik wearily, evidently tiring of watching him try to effect their escape and growing hungry. He had to admit, the smells coming out the boxes were both tempting and familiar.

"Are you going to eat?" he asked her, as she was just sitting there, looking at him expectantly. He doubted it was a matter of manners.

She glared at him. "Not unless you come and open something, I'm not!" The travel containers were the kind that latched, admittedly difficult to open with one hand. He obliged her by sitting, and began opening them. The decorative patterns on the containers were not familiar, but the shape itself was. He'd eaten out of ones like this quite often, back home.

"You must have done extensive research on my home province to prepare such a meal." He said neutrally. He actually found the idea extremely disconcerting.

"Not really." Trumari said, offering him a pair of eating sticks. "I lived there for a long while, and it's where my clan is originally from anyway. The clam pastry was about the only new food, really. I made a point of learning the recipe right away when I immigrated, and updating the other dishes since they've evolved. Cooking is my primary hobby. My primary occupation up until Starfleet, too."

Vorik didn't much care for the company, although he was somewhat relieved to learn (if it was true) that Trumari had simply prepared what she was familiar with rather than stalking him. He was certainly appreciating the food, regardless of where it had come from. He hadn't had most of this since he was last at home. None of it was in the standard database for a replicator (although he had managed to add a few of his preferred dishes before Voyager had shipped out), and even with the proper ingredients, he wasn't much of a cook. He now knew for certain where the Vulcan themed snacks in the Engineering break room had been coming from. He'd suspected before, Neelix's interpretations of Vulcan fare ranging from interesting to vomit inducing, but his uncertainty had been reduced to near zero.

"You must have spent a considerable number of replicator rations." He commented, since the flavors were far more authentic than could have been achieved with what was available from airponics. Most Vulcan cultures discouraged conversation during a meal, but his was an exception.

"A few." she acknowledged. "I have a slightly higher allowance than most."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, come now, you were the one who rescued me from Neelix's leeola root casserole."

"Anaphalaxis." Vorik recalled. "You are severely allergic. That would justify a larger personal ration." he agreed.

"Anyway, it's hardly replicated. Fresh vegetables, handmade noodles from processed leola starch, and I've actually been cultivating the clams onboard. We picked them up a few months ago. Neelix was quite pleased." She was clearly attempting to brag about her cooking skills. He was not going to encourage her.

"Processing removes the allergen from the leola?" he diverted.

"Pickling, specifically. The chemical I cannot tolerate leeches out into the brine and is metabolized into harmless byproducts. Then the roots are freeze dried and ground. We use it as a flour substitute. For a while my diet was quite restricted, until the Doctor discovered I could tolerate leeola in this form." Vorik notice she had adopted her 'Vulcan' persona again, or something like it.

"Why not simply take a preventative medication and avoid the trouble entirely?"

Trumari looked at him wryly. "My only other known allergies would be those medications."

"Unfortunate."

"Indeed." The ground under them began to shake violently again, this time clearly the result of the holodeck failing to buffer them from the failing inertial dampeners of the ship, since the simulated environment was otherwise unaffected. This was fortunate, as they were not far from a cliff's edge. Trumari put out her hand to brace herself and then cried out in pain as nearly her full weight was thrown onto her injury. When the shaking stopped, this time Vorik saw that there was blood. The fractured bone must have pierced the skin.

"Show me," he insisted this time. She sighed and held out her arm for his inspection. He carefully peeled back her uniform sleeve, and then the thermal layer Vulcans, and apparently Romulans, typically wore to combat the uncomfortably cool temperatures of Federation vessels. Under this was still yet another layer, this one of a perforated, blood soaked bandage. Surprisingly, it was not bone sticking out of her flesh and through the bandages, but metal rod ends and a cable.

"What is this?" he questioned, as he strove to determine the severity of her injury. "'Why were you already bandaged?"

"Artificial nerve replacement cable, and a surgical pin. A broken one, it seems. The bandage keeps everything working a little better."

He maneuvered her hand carefully. "Can you feel that?"

She shook her head. "I could before I fell on it just now. I couldn't tell you if that means the nerve cable's come loose, or if I've lost circulation."

"We will splint it and watch for swelling." Vorik decided.

"Splint? What with?"

He held up the eating sticks.

She snorted. "Fine. So long as the Doctor doesn't have to laser scalpel them off or something, those are antiques. The only reason they made it aboard with me was because I had them in my pocket."

"I will do my best to inform him of their value, should you be unable." Vorik assured her.

"I hope you mean if I lose consciousness," she told him dryly.

"Yes. That is the most likely scenario." "

"Uh huh." Trumari was now fully acting like someone else, again. Or perhaps it was that she was always herself, but he had no idea what she was normally like, and that was hardly surprising, given the lengths he'd gone to avoiding such familiarity. Vorik carefully wrapped a cloth from the travel containers around her wrist, securing the eating sticks over the injury. The light blue color of the cloth would allow him to see how much the injury was bleeding without having to peel anything off.

* * *

A/N: Poor Trumari, getting first aid from Vorik, when all she wants to do is hit him again.


	26. Blind Date part 4

Vorik released Trumari's wrist after splinting it, and asked, professionally curious, "How did you come to acquire artificial replacement nerves and such an antiquated method of bone repair?" His interest was purely due to his preference for small scale and medical engineering.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "It was the best care available at the time." She tapped each of her finger tips, and pinched her fingernails, no doubt checking to make sure the splint had not worsened her condition.

"Where was that?"

"A Maquis base. I couldn't exactly walk into a Starfleet facility."

"Why not? You are a citizen, aren't you? You may have been arrested for your Maquis activity, but you wouldn't have been denied care."

"Oh, I _was_ a citizen, but it was revoked a few months before we ended up out here. Actually, when the Maquis raided the prison, that was the first I'd had anything to do with them."

"You were injured escaping from a Federation prison?" He didn't want to think what she might have done to lose her citizenship. Only one particular crime with such a punishment came to mind. Treason.

Trumari raised an eyebrow. "No." she said simply. He was annoyed with himself to find that the lack of further information was frustrating. He could ask of course, but that would tacitly indicate a much greater degree of curiosity about and interest in her than he wished to express to her.

Trumari began to shiver, no doubt a result of the prolonged pain.

"You are going into shock." he observed. He tried again to comm call anyone, sickbay in particular, but was unsuccessful. The holodeck controls remained similarly inacessable. "It is imperative that we stabilize your body temperature." He said, surrendering to the inevitable.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your point?" He moved to sit beside her.

"Uh, no. Definitely not." Trumari flatly refused.

"We could be here some time. I would prefer you not be comatose when help arrives."

"Because then you would look bad?" Trumari grumbled.

"It never looks good when a man has an unconscious date."

"You did not just say that."

"I believe I did." Vorik had no reason to suppose that Trumari's hearing was in any way impaired, unlike her grip, so he assumed she was expressing either disapproval or disbelief.

"Pervert!" she accused him. That seemed hypocritical, coming from her.

"I assure you, I have no interest in doing anything of that nature _to_ or _with_ you. I am merely concerned about your health."

"Right, sure you are." Trumari was clearly not as rational as usual, at least not as rational as she usually was on duty.

"Move. Now." He told her.

"Or?"

"Or you'll be unconscious, but not comatose, when help comes."

"You threatening me?"

"No. I was making you aware of your options."

She grumbled, but complied, sitting in front of him.

"You try anything, and my elbow will make sure there are never, ever, any little Voriks."

"Understood." He said dryly, wrapping his arms around her. As a touch telepath, 'cuddling up' to someone like this, someone he had to admit he disliked, was particularly unpleasant.

Except….it wasn't. Other than the fact that she was in considerable pain, brushing up against Trumari's mind was actually _very pleasant._ Apparently Trumari felt the same way because she relaxed quite quickly. She let out a long sigh. This was not at all what he had expected from someone with Trumari's reputation. Despite her earlier anger at him, she was now quite nearly calm, aside from her discomfort with the physical contact, and anxiety, presumably about the crew. There was none of the aggressive sensuality he had expected, and her intense concern for their crewmates certainly was far from consistent with the self centeredness he had thought he'd find. She certainly didn't seem like the sort of person who'd lost their citizenship after a treason conviction.

"Stop that." She snapped irritably.

 _She noticed?_ "You don't have to be so surprised. Not being telepathic doesn't necessarily mean being unable to recognize telepathic contact. Anyway, I wasn't born this way. Things make it through sometimes. I'm not psi-null. I didn't show really up on the Devore's radar, but they did hassle me a bit."

 _She lost telepathic ability?_ "It was not my intention to intrude. What I perceived was so unexpected that I looked further without considering whether it was appropriate."

"Well it wasn't. I'm not snooping on you! I may not be an engineer, but hacking was a required skill in my previous employment, so I totally could!" she grumbled. "I told you I'm not what you think, why do you have to be so surprised?" She sounded aggrieved.

"It seems I have rendered a judgement of your character that may be inaccurate." He admitted.

She snorted. "You think? I may have done a few stupid things when I came aboard, but the rumor mill has grossly exaggerated them. I haven't slept with anyone since the first three months, so very very exaggerated."

"So it would seem." Vorik conceded. "Still…"

"I'm still Romulan."

"Yes." He admitted.

"I suppose I can see why you have trouble with that," she said grudgingly, "but you know, we're not all the people who hurt your brother."

Vorik stiffened. "How do you know about what happened to Taurik?" Did this have something to do with what she'd said when they'd first met? About them being even if he helped her? Something to do with how she had taunted him that day they'd last been on the holodeck together?

"Because I helped get him home. It was my last really successful mission, before my superiors decided that the same things that made me a valuable intelligence operative made me too dangerous to keep around and they left me to rot in a Cardassian prison."

If that was true then he owed her an open mind at least, but if it wasn't, she was just trying to manipulate him. Even if it was true, she was probably trying to manipulate him. Well, he could always suspend final judgement until he could ask Taurik.

"You were an intelligence officer?"

"Mhmm. I _was_ a Romulan spy, just not 'a spy for the Romulans'." Vorik listened to the ensuing wandering summary of Trumari's career as an intelligence operative with Starfleet, and how it had ended with her capture by Cardassians on a visit to her family, and subsequent disavowal by Starfleet, and the Federation at large. She painted herself as the betrayed, rather than the traitor she'd been designated. Despite his attempts to block out her emotions, he could tell the recounting was distressing for her.

"You have a twin sister?" he asked, well aware the question was abrupt, but he felt a redirection was in order.

"Had. Not identical, like you and Taurik, though. I'm the last of my clan now, unless someone on the Empire side managed to fake being killed." He understood all too well the intensity of the pain she felt at the recollection of her sister's death, having once thought his own twin dead, and he shuddered inwardly to imagine what it would be like to lose his entire clan.

* * *

A/N: Trumari and Vorik's date gets both worse, and better :D


	27. Blind Date part 5

Sorry, sorry, sorry! A quick summary of the current story arc: Vorik is set up on a blind date with Trumari on the holodeck, where Tom Paris locks them in together. The ship and holodeck malfunction, disabling the holodeck safeties and making the date far more exciting than Trumari had planned. Vorik finds Trumari's forced company far less objectionable than he had expected, and he endeavors to be reasonably polite. In the meantime, the conversation turns more serious.

* * *

The change in Trumari's emotions from grievance to actual grief was hardly what Vorik been hoping for. He decided to resume the previous discussion. "What were the primary points of argument that convicted you of treason?"

"Besides suddenly being inconvenient when the Cardassians were trying to ransom me?" Trumari asked acerbically.

"Yes."

She sighed. "Well, for that you have to understand that my family's position here in the Federation was different from your typical Romulan refugee. We weren't dissidents, not exactly. My clan is oathbound from birth to a very special type of service to the First Family of the Noble Born."

"The Emperor or Empress." Vorik realized.

"Right. Well, when I was six, I made myself a very particular personal enemy of the Praetor by foiling an assassination plot in a way that especially shamed him. The Empress sent me and my immediate family the only place we might possibly be out of his reach, in the hopes that we might be just a little bit safer here."

"Which you were, until the Cardassians?"

"Yes. When I enrolled in Starfleet Academy, I told them up front about my very personal loyalty to the Empress as the rightful sovereign of the Empire, and took an oath to recuse myself from involvement if that loyalty, and service in Starfleet ever came into conflict. It was only a problem a few times, and I always kept my superiors well apprised of any potential conflicts, but I never actually had to recuse myself. Until I got a message from the new Empress asking my family to come back and take up our hereditary post because everyone who'd stayed in the Empire was dead, that is."

Vorik was curious. Was this the root of the treason accusation? "Did you consider it?"

"What? Of course I did! We all did! I let my superiors know, and took a leave of absence, just like I was supposed to, to visit my family, discuss the implications with my mate, and consult with many, many lawyers."

"And then Cardassians?"

"And then Cardassians." She agreed. He was fairly certain he didn't want any more specifics on what "Cardassians" meant in its entirety. Given how she had behaved afterward, it had probably been traumatic.

"I do not think I approve of your willingness to leave the Federation." He told her. She snorted and then attempted to convince him that he'd have considered it, too. Her argument was not entirely unmoving.

They were shaken hard again, during which time the ship's artificial gravity failed for a moment and Trumari once again injured her wrist further. This time she was clearly having far more difficulty coping. "I take it you can feel your hand again." He remarked as she cradled it against her. "Yes." She hissed, breathing hard.

It was clear shock was not going to be averted by such simple measures as a small degree of assistance with her body temperature. He had a means of relieving her pain, perhaps two, but both were far too intimate to offer someone he could hardly call a comrade, let alone a friend unless the emergency was extreme. The hologrid flickered, and then went out, dumping them on the floor of the holodeck. Trumari screamed. He attempted to pry open the door of the holodeck with the aid of the emergency door release, but to no avail. Sighing internally, Vorik resigned himself. He made the offer. "If you will remove your upper garments, I will use neuropressure to reduce your pain."

Trumari stared at him incredulously for a moment, and then began to laugh hysterically. "It was not intended to be amusing. I was quite sincere."

"Uh huh. Yeah, still, I'm going to have to decline. My shirt stays on."

Vorik almost frowned but caught himself. "I assure you, my intentions are far from voyeuristic. Your layered clothing would interfere with the efficacy of the technique." She nodded.

"I get it. I even mostly believe you. Doesn't matter." There was a surge of brightness, a painfully high-pitched hum, and the hologrid lights went out. Trumari laughed again, a near hysterical sound.

"Are you alright?" It was an imprecise inquiry, but he had little data to work with, and inquiring directly about her emotional status would have been uncouth. Even if she probably wouldn't mind.

"I'm not any worse." She informed him, her voice strangely muffled. He also heard rustling sounds.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking my shirt off, stupid." She grunted, clearly struggling.

He ignored the insult. He could have deduced that, if he'd tried, and should have. "Do you require assistance?"

"No. Back on might be a problem though. I haven't pulled it over the splint."

"Is your thermal undershirt still on?"

"Yes. That's not coming off."

"Acceptable." Vorik told her, reaching his hands out to locate her more precisely. Fortunately, the first thing he found was the tousled hair on the back of her head, and not something more awkward. He trailed his hands down her neck and across her shoulders, then down her spine, locating the nerve and muscle groups he would need to manipulate while doing his best to ignore the evidence of rather severe past injuries he found there. Scarring so thick it could be felt through the thermal undergarment. He didn't want to contemplate the significance of their locations, but with his entry level training in neuropressure, even he could tell what it meant. Not only had someone with knowledge of how best to cause a Vulcan or Romulan pain tortured her, but they'd left her in such condition that the pain would never completely stop. He began more carefully as a result. It wouldn't have taken much time or contact for him to relieve the pain in her injured wrist if that had been the only consideration, but he was not going to leave her in any pain at all, if he could help it, and if only she would let him finish.

"Vorik."

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing that? You've finished what you offered to do."

"It would hardly be logical to offer my limited services as a healer to an injured person, and then not extend that healing to another injury found in the course of treatment of the first." She snorted. "Right, of course. Logic."

"Do you doubt my word?"

"No, but are you sure that's your only motivation? Pity doesn't come into it anywhere?"

Vorik reflected. "If compassion was no consideration in this interaction, I would not have offered."

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me." She muttered. "I want you to like me."

Vorik raised an eyebrow in the profound darkness. "I cannot compel myself to 'like' you."

"I know that." She retorted irritably. "If I'd realized being Rihannsu was still such a problem for you, I'd have never bothered."

"I may grow used to it, in time," He informed her, "but I can hardly offer myself as a mate to someone of any race, whose honor I doubt." Somehow in the darkness, Trumari manage to scramble away from him, turn, and hit him soundly across the face. Again. She swore at him vehemently. Vorik could hear her crying as she did so. He realized, belatedly of course, that he had probably just topped his previous most tactless comment to a woman (as chosen and defined by Tom, since he was still struggling with the illogical concept of tact). It wasn't the worst thing he'd said to Trumari tonight, but those potentially offensive statements had technically been intentional. No doubt she had interpreted his statement as a reiteration of his mistaken belief that she was currently a licentious woman. That was not what he had meant, _at all._ As Tom would say, he had put his foot into his mouth.

Of course, perhaps what he had meant was offensive as well. That being that he questioned whether she was a person of integrity, whether she knew who and what she was, whether she had found her moral footing in the odd space between the Rihannsu and the Vuhlkansu she appeared to occupy, or if she was just camouflaging herself appropriately, a prime example of Romulan duplicity.

"Trumari, that is not what I meant."

"Shut up. I never should have let Tom talk me into this. Every time I start to think you just might be worth the effort of befriending, you remind me why I hate you."

Vorik was fairly certain he knew why Trumari hated him, since she'd delivered a litany on the subject more than once, years ago, but that she might have reasons beyond the obvious physical ones for wanting a relationship with him was news to him.

"Why?"

"Why do you remind me? I don't know, you're the one who keeps doing it! I thought you might have grown out of it, but then you did it again! I'm starting to think being young and stupid has nothing to do with it!"

"It is not my fault you are older than I am." Vorik said stiffly. It didn't seem the time to address 'stupid.'

"I'm not. I'm younger actually, years-wise, anyway." Vorik blinked slowly in the dark. _What?!_ He quickly reassessed several assumptions and deductions. "You attended the Academy when you were very young," he finally said lamely.

"Fourteen, almost fifteen. And married at twenty, if you were wondering."

Some humans might be ready for the Academy at fourteen, but a Vulcanoid? It was ridiculous. She probably hadn't even had all her childhood teeth in! Twenty and married? That was a child still! His mother had still been choosing his clothes for him at that age! He'd found it objectionable, of course, but the effort preventing it would have required had seemed too costly. Had Trumari even reached full growth by then?

"I imagine social pressures force Rihann children to mature more quickly." He speculated.

Trumari snorted. "You think? I had official kitchen and meal service duties by the time I was six. Vulcan children might be taking on the desert by then, but throw them in an commercial/industrial sized kitchen and all you'll get is injured children and dropped food."

"It seems likely." He agreed.

"You're being suspiciously agreeable." Trumari's voice was muffled again. Evidently, she was trying to get her shirt back on. Offering to help seemed unwise.

"You have accused me of being close minded regarding yourself. A brief self-examination has forced me to reconsider my conduct."

Trumari muttered something in Rihann either he or the Universal Translator didn't quite catch.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I have been going back and forth between being super busy and in slumps, so I really didn't have it in me to do much writing. I also had to take some time and decide if my plan to make Trumari younger than Vorik really made sense or not. I feel like it is a bit of a stretch, but some of the rest of my planned plot will get a bit perforated if I change it now, and I'm not up for that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
